Spectres of no Clemency
by Crystal Dew
Summary: Luso's unresolved fear of ghosts is reasonable, but should it last, even when fantasy is present to help him? Pre-game, In-game, Post-game.
1. Ghosts of Present

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the weirdest ideas that you see here.  
**Notes:** The story is told on a quick and brief manner, almost as if it was resumed. It is purposeful, since I pretend to cover much of Luso's years, but focusing on his fear of ghosts for this story. Other stories I might write will be more detailed and cover less of a time span, but the style you see on this chapter will do to the rest of the chapters in Spectres of no Clemency.  
_

Ivalice had known such techknology over two thousand years ago, yet it became lost as centuries passed by. No longer did they find crystals or mist to power what they so desired. Ridiculous as it was, their primitivity could be compared to that of the Golden Era, so many centuries back in time.

So airships only came again into existence when potent steam engines were invented.

They tested everything several times, in preparation for airships to become the best and one of the most secure ways to travel. All tests had gone right, and those who did not were promptly, minuciously corrected. It was an immense step forward in techknologies, so humes, the only intelligent species left on the world, cheered wildly when the airships were introduced in people's lives. Life had become easier.

So of course Mr. and Ms. Clemens would choose this wonderful transport medium to visit the man's sister and her newborn child. Nothing could go wrong and besides, their little Luso could see the beauty of their world from high above the land.

Luso's aunt lived in a small city; could be called a village if they so wished. Thus, the airship that serviced them was also smaller in size.

The young brunette boy had been awed. Everything was so pretty- the ship's interior, the view, the comfortable feeling even though they were high up the sky in a colder part of the atmosphere. Spaced seats were adorned with simple patterns that resembled antique art, few carpets of the same style rested upon neat flooring. People were free to roam and look out the large windows if they so wished, though they usually remained seated. That was the case of Luso's parents, who felt at ease to rest while their child, well-behaved in public, paced about with hungry curiosity.

Aside from daily problems, everything had been happy and impeccable. Unbreakable.

Until tragedy struck all within the airship.

Spectres, ghostly auras – they began sliding about the transport's interior, causing fear and ruckus. People arose from their seats, horror-struck, and fled from side to side in an attempt to evade the quick phenomenon, screams as common as furious bumping. The ship's balance had been altered badly, shaking it whole. The pilot told them of a sudden problem on the engine, that he was trying to do his best to fly properly, but nobody was calmed. Luso had been long separated from his parents, heart pounding almost painfully against his chest, so quick it beat. Standing someplace safer from the adults' long, wild legs, he felt cold, hand-like energies touch him all over, saw illusions, distorted spectral faces, his legs giving out. The boy wished to at least close his eyes, but was afraid that an older hume would end up falling on him if he did, ears already pained by the screams.

The airship was falling and they'd barely noticed.

Barely.

"Luso!" Mr. Clemens screamed in a desperate hurry upon finally finding his lost son. His wife, too, had been lost among the scared crowd, but at least she could fend off for herself, differently from his little boy.

His little boy.

Luso felt a harsh, breathtaking embrace before black was all he could see.

... And was it not death? He was unsure. Death was not supposed to hurt. The dead weren't supposed to feel pain like he did. Nor breath. Nor think.

Luso only dared open his eyes after he was utterly sure he was still alive.  
He wished he hadn't.

Destruction was the word, the concept, the only thing that came to his mind with the sight. Airship pieces and machinery, broken, ripped, scattered, coated the grass below. Some of them cracked, engulfed by few flames. But the broken ship was a beautiful thing if compared to the rest; battered bodies laid among said pieces, as if mere dolls thrown aside to make company to the also abandoned ship. Blood was not rare, nor were limbs in a too odd position to be considered functional. Further details became difficult for his eyes became soon clouded.

No body stirred. He was afraid to deem any of them to be his parents', so he averted his eyes, first down, then up when he caught a glance of his bloodied hands. His heart panged, throbbed in pain. Tears fell relentlessly from sea-blue eyes, his torso also covered in crimsom liquid, that he desired not to know the owner of.

Soon Luso saw that the sky was no safe haven for his vision, either.

The spectres had not ceased their chase. They flew around him; distorted, scary forms, all cool in temperature and more often than not they would release deep and dragged moans. Tightly closing his eyes, the boy tried to ignore the cold, the smell of smoke and blood, the grief that tightened his chest. Tears stung his eyes, his pants were wet and his skin, patched with goosebumps.

When it took him to the brink of insanity, he took the rests of a pillow and ran away.

Not a day and a half later did rescuers find the young brunette boy, claiming him to be the only survivor of the accident. The spectres had disappeared.

The rescuers questioned Luso about where he had aimed to go, which city he came from or could be sent to, though he could only voice out "Ivalice" before quieting down, cherishing the warmth of a rescuer's arms while his dry throat refused to say more.

Mira, Luso's aunt, was struck with grief upon being notified of the tragedy, mourning the loss of her brother, his wife and her nephew. She was more than surprised and content when they brought Luso, with mere six years of age, alive and with not much grave wounding into her house. She thanked the rescuers deeply, and went to care for Luso as if he were her son, along with her young baby.

It was a harsh time nonetheless. Mira still had to get over her brother's death, and the psychological damage Luso received from the experience seemed to be one that scarred him profoundly enough as to not fade for several years. For the entire week following the tragedy, the boy wet his bed, it only further aggravating his problematic bladder. She tried allowing him to sleep with her, but it was not enough to suffocate his nightmares, and cleaning a bed big as hers of urine proved a much harder task than doing the same with a smaller bed.

If he wasn't having nightmares, he usually remained wide awake. Rare were the times he'd dream. The aunt was becoming increasingly worried with the noticeable dark bags under his eyes, the red hue of said orbs and the paranoia of ghosts the boy seemed to have attained.

Ghosts were had as mere fictional legend in that time. Some did believe them, but most were skeptic, having never seen such spectres before. So when researchers went to ask Luso about what happened in the airship, the answer they received would not convince them. The people must have panicked because of the problem in the engine, and the ghosts were fruit of the child's enormous imagination, they'd say.

Luso wanted to believe them, but he could not believe his imagination to be so vivid, either. So he was well-convinced of the ghosts' existence.

He healed slowly over time, playing with his cousin and not yet subjected to return to school. The nightmares would become less often, his eyes would not burn continually from crying, and he was learning to live without his parents' support. But the healing process was still crawling.

Not too much time later, they arranged for Luso to start classes at the only and main school in St. Ivalice. It made him happy, as the one thing he had also missed and, differently from his parents, could get back, were friends, and school was a good place as any to make them. Even if he wasn't as talented in the act of befriending... Yet.

They introduced the sickly-looking boy to the class, and so curiosity was piqued in the children. He was timid, not desiring to be the center of attention nor talking much. Socialization was slow and fragile.

His cousin died suddenly and soon, an illness far too strong for his slight body to stand having taken his life. Aunt Mira felt devastated, and Luso, terribly shaken; he had lost his only friend, so what entertainment was he to have? How many nights would he stand to perceive flickers of a spectral young body, imagine cries and sobs?

Haunted and lonely as he felt, Luso still had to support his aunt, for she had lost her only son. Luso was almost a son, at least, and she was like a mother to him, so they could comfort each other with no much difficulty.

At school, the students who learnt of the death of the boy's cousin made their best to become more friendly and cheering towards him. Luso was grateful; thanks to the cheery supporters, his paranoia would seem to disappear completely on school grounds. He was never alone there.

With her son's parting, Mira would have a mouth less to feed. With the spare money, she bought Luso some story books, which he did not hesitate to read whole. Stories were distracting and distraction from the real life, in which he would see ghosts whenever alone, was what the boy needed. It was in this book experience that both found out Luso's favourite genre was fantasy.

He read a lot, never truly tired of the dragons, magicks, hunters, tribes, knights, weapons. And through reading did he become more studious and inspired to write.

Mira was proud of his satisfying grades and how he seemed to be getting better from his psychological turmoil.

One day, he had a strange dream, though. A large creature with giant claws and a pincer, resembling man, crab, dragon and lobster appeared to him.

_"Your heart belongs not in this time."_

_"Why not?"_

_"'Tis a different Ivalice, a different reality that you crave. Your heart belongs in a fantasy."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"The Gran Grimoire has been activated. The Grimoire of the Rift shall receive the same fate, and belong to you."_

_Luso was dumbstruck._

_"We will happen upon each other again. Perhaps you will not know it, but I will."_

_The word the creature last said pounded against his head with a force that bordered physical, intensely._

_Graviga._

Eight year-old Luso woke up with a harsh headache after that, one that lasted over a week. It was an immense relief when it faded, as if a weight had been removed from his soul.

Misbehaving? It was rare, but he could not avoid, could not resist it. It gave him a certain sense of freedom, even though he refrained from showing misbehaviour as it displeased the adults and few other children. The punishments he received, too, were a much lighter worry than the nightmares. He almost laughed, even. If he was put to stare at the ceiling, he would not mind, fantasy invading his thoughts. To clean the school was no nuisance.

He may have, for the while, had friends and played and talked normally like someone his age should, but the fear never disappeared entirely. Too much time alone, or someplace dark, could prove to frighten him, making him see ghosts, whether they existed or not. The fantasy books he read were not for children, either, and some situations described would strike in him certain fear. A week or another, there would be a nightmare that would be really unsettling and he would wake up breathless, feeling every drop of sweat run down his skin, pants uncomfortably wet.

When puberty arose, at least, another distraction was gained. Nights would feel less worrying when he touched himself, sleep arriving more easily than ever after he, spent, released. Luso's pants would be stained with a happier substance, too.

In said nights, he thought of no one. Why should he? His true love was writing. The other students would bother him for it, though they stopped as Luso soon grew tired of the subject.

One other day, aunt Mira told him his grandmother, who lived in the same city he did before, passed away. Gave him the letter that confirmed it, and soon made to comfort him with reassuring words, also adding that ghosts of good people are bound to never do anything of bad.

Easier said than absorbed. How could she be so sure the deceased could still control their bodies after death? How could she be sure that they would remain gentle, as if they were not dead at all?

Luso had no sightings of his grandmother, though there were certain nightmares and also guilt. Would have she met the same fate if he were to visit her like a good grandson?

Fantasy swallowed him up more strongly than ever as he grew, better understanding not only the real, but the fictional worlds as well. It was almost as if the real world was turning pale and boring in comparison to the fantasy. And so he wrote, as to keep further contact with those fantastic worlds.

Maybe he'd have to lay down more on the misbehaving, he noted to himself when at a college year's end he was sent to help Mewt, the librarian, to tidy and help on the library. He wasn't as eager to comply that day, but did so anyway; Mewt was a good young man, said to have studied on the school before becoming its librarian, because he was also a "bookworm".

Luso regretted not a single thing when he happened upon the most amazing fantasy book he'd seen, but was he frustrated to find it simply stopped- blank pages devoid of any word taking barely half the antique book's space.

Curious. It also asked the name of the one who would fill said barren pages. His reckless, confident bit drove his hand to write down, with ink and a long feather, his own full name in it.

And not ten heartbeats later, all glowed and swirled, sparkled, spun.

When the air regained its normal state and grass tickled his skin, the chorus of crickets and birds the only sound to infiltrate his dizzy head, he felt only one doubt, and one assurance.

Luso did not know where he was, but he was alone.


	2. Spirits of Jylland

**Disclaimer: **Still own nothing but the uncanon ideas, though I do wonder why Square didn't develop the Zodiac matters further.

**Notes:** This took much longer to write out than I supposed. Maybe it is due to the new ideas and how I cannot seem to be able to focus on ghostly matters alone. I thought this fic in its entirety would be less than 10.000 words in length but by the second chapter it's already passed that mark. I am unsure if I should be proud or suspicious...

I will not proofread this for now, lest I delay it too much.

**!Warnings:** Multiple pairings, including mooglexhume pairing, mentions of incest, undetailed and rather light sexual content and the general weirdness one should expect from me.

Loneliness was the one thing that degraded him for the past years.

But it would not hinder him, not in this situation.

Luso focused on the task at hand: find out where he was sent to, and find civilization. The creatures roaming the forest he'd fallen into were not as timid as the ones from the surroundings of St. Ivalice. Hare-like animals sniffed him curiously as he passed by, short humanoids eyed him from a distance and so did wolves. Round chickens half his size roamed under the shadow of treetops.

Wait.

Half his size?

He was sure his eyes had a glimpse of immense yellow legs, and the trembling ground under his feet agreed with him.

They only refused to agree when Luso saw said giant creature running right towards him. They would not budge so save the body that they supported.

Luso thought he would die even as a sonic blade of air hit the chicken's legs, sending it roaring towards the ground.

_"Are you alright, boy?"_

Clan Gully was his salvation. Happy and courageous as he looked, he was on truth afraid that anything wrong would have him out of the clan and into lost misery. With this worry in mind, Luso did his best and did not question his clan's decisions.

Even after mastering swordsmanship, he never stopped being a writer. Always observing, sincerely curious about Ivalice's culture and history, he wrote down his journal. It was not rare, on the first month, that Luso pestered Cid about everything in that time period. He asked so many things even Cid had to admit he did not know many of them, neither did he understood why the hell was he asking stupid questions such as "how can people learn magick?" or "do dragons exist here?"

The revgaji grew to better tolerate him as their bond grew closer- humes were so easy to bond with, so emotional. Only then did he learn better about how the boy wasn't from this world.

Adelle was, in contrast, much less comforting. Maybe, if he had not his strength, he would be afraid to come near her. She was teasing in every way, and in the first weeks they could not trust her at any rate, careful to count the gil they had every now and then. Fortunately they had none missing, or at least they thought so.

Ghosts were well at the back of his mind. Paranoia was, now, more due to the common monsters than anything- every sound he heard in the wilderness, mainly if they were to sleep out of a city, would startle him right away. He was not used to wake up with sword in hand and eat raw fruit, but it was not like he complained much about it, either.

Cid was shot all too soon. Luso grew desperate with worry, not knowing what would be of the clan or himself if the revgaji died.

As he slowly healed, Cid brushed off his clanmates' worries, posing Luso as the new clan leader. The boy was astonished; the clan's archer, Fayd, had been the leader prior to Cid's arrival, from what he had heard, so why would he be the one to lead clan Gully? The most surprising of it all was said clan's acceptance to the decision. They merely encouraged Luso on, and so the ocean-eyed boy was unable to refuse.

Not as bad in leading as he'd thought, Luso dealt with the burdens of choosing and managing quests and the clan's currency pretty well. He priorized potions over new weapons and it was rewarding. Ivalicean inhabitants were not as difficult to deal with as humes from his own world, though it became a whole different matter when it concerned monsters and different species. He'd never seen anything like them before. So when he caressed moogle wings and prodded viera ears and felt the scales of bangaas and entwined fingers with nu mous, they didn't scold their new clan leader as much.

The newest quest was to recover a zingu pearl. Easy enough, it seemed. But alas, Clan Gully never had set foot inside the Galerria Deep. Not with Luso, at least.

And was it cold. Chilly, desolate. Since the very entrance of the lengthy cave the boy thought that when he stepped inside, he would not see the light of day again. But was turning back even an option?

_"We forget now burdens of past, and in its ashes do we collect the seeds of future prosperity." Fayd almost chants, tone loud and sure. The archer turns around at the entrance, fiery eyes gazing down every clan member, and bangaa, viera, moogle and nu mou nod their agreement. Luso and Adelle do not comprehend any of it, nor does Yujin, the newest member and an unsure soldier. And even if their limbs feel glued, petrified, they follow the oldest clan members which had already gotten into the Deep._

_"Don't you leave us behind! Hey!"_

Monsters became rarer and rarer the deeper they went in. No sight of pearls or big sandy pits they could search in. The search had made them so wary that by the time an enormous sand pit was found, they were not as eager to near it. Much less because it shifted and moved.

Luso was the exception. To ease the thick tension in the humid atmosphere, he checked the pit closely, finding the ripples almost water-like. Certainly there were zingu pearls there!

The boy searched avidly, the others walked closer, brushing off suspicions of unsafety. This mission was going better than what they expected. All is calm and silent. But none ever said death was noisy nor slow.

Luso hears a too sudden, loud shifting sound. His feet do not have the support of the ground anymore, and he sees brown, black, _insect. _He feels his torso being constricted forcefully, sure that every single rib of his will break in a second or two. Struggling will do nothing, the constricting power able to be equalled to two rocks crushing him. For the first time since his encounter with that crushatrice, Luso thought he would die.

For an instance, he feels unbearable heat, thinking it may be due to his ribs finally breaking and spilling blood everywhere within him. But when the boy is dropped to the sand below, he breathes irregularly and quickly and realizes his bones were still there.

Swift arms pick him up, eyes meeting with Salma's focused expression. She casts a quick cure spell over him just in case, laying him upon the rocky ground farther away from the noise he hears in the distance before taking out her rapier and speeding off to fight.

When Luso glances back, he sees a huge scarab screeching its pain as fire roasts its sketelon, a dragon being the cause of its current burning. Which is odd, as he saw no dragon before. The boy feels helpless as his body wishes to catch its breath and recompose itself and so he cannot fight, left to watch amazed as arrows, swords, rapier and spear make a ridiculously quick work of the dying beast. Never had he seem Clan Gully work so well.

He only understands where the dragon comes from when it happens to shrink, revealing the extremely dark gray fur and long drooped ears that could only belong to Ransem. Maybe that was what being a morpher meant. When the insect stopped writhing and stilled completely, the party turned to Luso, asking how he fared, helping him stand up.

His heart welled up with content warmth, feeling secure and loved. He had not a thing to fear with friends like these.

But of course there had to be a bad event to counterattack that good one. Clan Gully's members had separated in the large gallery room to search for the blasted pearl, except Adelle, who had decided to follow Luso. He searched patiently, hands darkening with wet sand, until the female thief decided to say: _"Hey, look! A ghost! Right behind you!"_

A dreadful feeling washed over him that moment, an horrid ghostly image flashing on his mind, and so he gripped tightly at his sword and gasped slightly "W-where?" and tried to turn around, only to stumble and fall. Adelle was struggling to keep her balance, so hard she was laughing. He stood up distraught and blushing, and the smirk she donned as he did so just warned him of the torture he'd be getting from her from now on.

Zingu pearls finally found, the mission could be completed.

Luso visited Cid often, relying on him for support about his doubts and worries. Their bond was growing close, too close. The revgaji always renewed his hopes in a way, knowing his clan to be trustworthy, and knowing there was not a thing the boy should worry about. He needn't be desperate about coming back to St. Ivalice, too.

Truth was, Luso loved forgetting about the life he had before and immersing himself into the Ivalice of the current time period. He was a warrior, not a student.

His fear of ghosts would be one of the only remnants of his previous life. And Adelle made sure to prod into that fear as much as she could. Not rarely did she attempt to scare him much like she did on the Galerria Deep, delighted in seeing the boy completely lose his composure. Asking her not to repeat the act again proved to be useless.

Luso loathed the day she would take this too far, and this worry proved itself very real, as one day he had not even opened his eyes to accept the morning sunshine when he stirred to cold breathing against his face.

_Forcing sleep away, he lifted heavy lids, preparing to face the foe that somehow got into the inn room._

_Large pupils met a frightening sight; ghastly cold mist hovered in the dark air, coming out of a mouth that dripped with a dark liquid. A mess of white strands partially covered glowing yellow eyes, a deep growl coming out of the creature. Heart racing to alarming heights, the boy wanted to scream, but it was caught up in his throat as he coughed harshly, back hitting the bed's wooden end as he moved away desperately. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he downright refused to open them to spot the ghost again, whimpering lightly._

_Luso's chest tightened as a familiar, amused laugh filled his ears. Adelle wiped the liquid from her lips, spitting the ice on the floor. "That was the best idea I've had in a while." she grinned, turning to take in his half confused, half horrified expression._

_After a few seconds, her grin dropped. "Calm down... it's me, really. That was just a prank." _

_He simply lowered his head, breathing still irregular. His tired eyes then shot open in realization, hands quickly gripping the sheets and trying to pull them towards himself, throwing Adelle off-balance. "Hey- Wait! What's wrong?" she took his wrists, not wishing to be ridden of the bed. When she noticed his red cheeks, the wrists were drawn back even more, and Luso reluctantly let her push him back._

It had been really just a joke at first. But when he wouldn't calm down and laugh it off, heart rate unsettled, nervous, submissive, eyes prickled with tears and a patch of urine surrounding his crotch, she saw it wasn't a mere normal fear. It was as if this scare had partially broken him. So the thief proceeded to comfort him afterwards. She wasn't as sweet as this when he managed to recover though. Nevertheless, he had little option but to trust her when she knew of his weak bladder and intense fear of ghosts, both which she could and still would use for her advantage. It embarrassed him a lot.

Throughout their quests they happened upon a quite polite and artistic moogle named Hurdy. Being an aspiring bard, his tiny fingers were always ready to tap a song. Luso and he became quick friends as they could talk of inspiration and art, Luso's related to writing, Hurdy's, to music. And the boy had to admit the moogle was graceful and pretty- not rarely would he catch himself staring at the swaying ears, sweet eyes and beautiful blonde hair of the bard. He couldn't, couldn't be falling in love with a _moogle_; maybe falling for Cid, or even Adelle, was more believable and normal, but a moogle...?

But he was still a _teenager,_ his passionate mind could care less, his occasionally needy body could care even less, and his creative imagination- _dear Ivalice what was he thinking._

Luso was sincerely happy when Cid came back healthy and well, though it did not distract his body at all.

But the most overwhelming of all was Vaan. When he first appeared to clean up some mess in the Moorabella Aerodrome with Penelo, the brunette had not paid too much attention, but-

Vaan was much peculiar to him. Besides possessing an eye-glueing beauty, Luso could feel within him a strange presence of importance. As if there was a light or a darkness inside him that he never felt before, in anyone.

And oh fuck _his voice_. Luso never thought a voice could be so alluring, entrancing, attractive as the Sky Pirate himself. The brunette's body was almost growling, sparking with sexual frustration and held back feelings and _why wasn't he giving himself what he wanted?_

Probably because he wanted more than he could take. None accepted sharing a lover, did they? So would he even risk trying it? Cid and Hurdy probably preferred females, and wasn't Vaan travelling with Penelo already?

Vaan and Penelo would oft stumble upon Clan Gully, assist them, merely converse as well. The male sky pirate seemed to easily strike conversation with Hurdy about another moogle called Montblanc; apparently, his brother. Vaan talked with Luso as well, ever sating the brunette's curiosity about Ivalice's history. Once in Moorabella they stayed in the pub until rather late in the night because the brunette just would not calm down about Vaan's adventures within the insurgence – _resistance, _he corrected himself – and in Lemurés. He had not known as much about it before; history classes at his time were rather frail.

_"You were a hero... you helped change Ivalice's history for the better."_

_"Don't flatter me so," Vaan touched his forehead against the boy's, feeling his light pulsing easily. Light, and the faintest feel of gravity. "Ashelia, Basch, Larsa, Balthier, Fran, Penelo... they all helped well alongside me. So did Kytes, Filo... Llyud."_

_"I don't get it. I don't feel in Penelo the same I feel in you, Vaan." Luso felt darkness, almost smelled it emanating from the other. Light in spirit, darkness in power._

_"Nor did I feel in any of them the same as with you," the platinum blonde sighed, stepping backwards. "I am unsure why."_

_A small part of Luso wished that it would be a signal of love, but he knew all too well that it wasn't. And without a clear answer for the odd feeling they got from each other, they finally headed towards the inn to rest._

Airships were only recently "discovered" in his time, so Luso was astonished to find how technologick and quick and functional they were in Loar. Their insides were even prettier than what his blasted memories told him of. His first ride on an airship there was pacific in general, except in his turmoiled heart. Cid, who knew of the boy's past, held him close for comfort.

In Fluorgis they happened upon Vaan again. While Clan Gully took to buy supplies, the city being a bustling and diverse commerce center, Luso conversed with the sky pirate- it was Vaan's wish that they did so in a place people wouldn't see them. A treasure too dangerous and valuable, he said.

_"Luso... have you ever heard of Scions?" the blonde started when both were safely hidden among trees in the city's outskirts._

_"Yes." the younger answered simply, remembering Lezaford's words on the matter. "They have immense power and live not in this world... dimension."_

_"...Almost that, yeah. Well, the twenty five Scions were said to be created by the Occuria, forced to work under them. The Scions of Darkness believed themselves stronger than their creators, and so rebelled, desiring to take them down, but they failed and were trapped within magickal Glyphs."_

_"Weren't they strong enough?" Luso questioned, head bobbing slightly to the side._

_"I think they were, but... something was holding their power back. No one knows what." Vaan exhaled. "Well, these Glyphs- me and my companions managed to obtain all of them."_

_Luso staggered. "What?"_

_"Their powers were kind of swayed there. They hadn't much to kill nor reason to attack with all they had, surely tired of being trapped for millenia. So we did it. But the Glyphs were broken after Occuria's grip on history did as well. The Scions were free to roam their land once again. But they did not savor their freedom. For a moment's obedience they submitted to 'big boss' Zodiark and allowed us to lock them inside those accessories. But still once released from those they would be free once again, only coming back to the accessory in soul if their new owner proved to be worthy. They aren't as locked as before." Vaan threw something – a choker, Luso presumed - in the air, catching it again easily. "Here, take it. It likes you."_

_"Likes me? What do you mean?"_

_"It felt attracted to you. Always responded somehow when you were near. Maybe you have an use for him. Zeromus' soul is inside that choker, and he wields gravity. Just don't show it off too much, okay? He'll help you when you call or when he so desires it. He's not truly bad, so don't you worry. Don't let anyone steal this accessory. Scions aren't the slaves their creators wanted them to be, so, wrong hands... you get what I mean."_

Luso felt special, possessing such a powerful mystical creature as a Scion. But as soon as he went to sleep that night, a mere second from laying the magick accessory down on the bedside table, the choker latched itself on his mouth by force, and though his hands tried to pull it off he could do naught to remove it.

_"Luso. We meet again."_

_A deep, distant voice, whose familiarity only his soul could grasp. His mouth began to salivate in compliance to the choker placed on his lips._

_"Gravity is yours, if you so prove yourself worthy of wielding it."_

_A symbol glowed blue in front of his eyes. Two circles, each with a tail, seemingly as if they were chasing each other, if not frozen in time._

_"And if you do, we are Cancer as one. It is I, Zeromus, the Condemner, that calls upon you."_

_The Condemner's Choker released his drooling mouth soon afterwards. Luso wondered how one could wield gravity like they did fire or wind._

Khamja and Duelhorn. Two clashing organizations – they had too many members to be called clans, so Cid had them go by the term organization – that seemed to slowly tear Jylland apart. They could be ignored before. But it was becoming too much. And Clan Gully wasn't going to stand indifferent to that.

Luso was hopeful as he had felt a flicker of light within one of Khamja's most skilled assassins, the Nightfall Ewen. They did meet quite a bit of times, oft to discuss valors of life or battle. Ewen taught him a lot of ninjutsu, and though they would still not trust each other as much, they were somehow acquainted.

_"You seem to take more pleasure in doing as you please than killing under orders. Why don't you desert Khamja?"_

_"Once in Khamja, always in Khamja. Wonder you still why we so dislike Cid?"_

Their encounters were always at night, and luckily no clan member insisted to know how Luso was able to wield some magicks and ninjutsu out of nowhere. He had become such an able fighter. No living thing could topple him easily. That didn't stop Adelle from taking advantage of him, though.

But differently from before, she was currently taking things too far. If he wasn't as confused and embarrassed and weak at the moment he could well have cursed her for rape or the similar, yet being touched by another felt unbelievably _good_. Luso was unsure why she had done it; then again, he couldn't understand any of the resolves she might have had for anything.

And now that he knew better of the sensation, every time his creative mind decided to work in the matter it would feel much more real. Unhelpful. Yet deep inside, he still desired that Cid, or Hurdy, or even Vaan, would do as Adelle did.

Then again, matters of the heart seemed easier to deal with than his biggest fear. Disdain. Phobia.

Freaking ghosts.

_That posting at the pub had almost frozen Luso, heart slowly sinking down his chest before, as he finished, it relocated itself and thumped heavily and slowly. Or so it seemed._

_"Excuse me, sir?" barely stuttering, the boy asked the pubmaster, "Could you give me some information about the Nazan Mines?"_

_"Oh, the said haunted mines? They were all crowded and made the miners' prosperity years ago, such joyous days. Now they are mere site of research for scholars and geologists... and are said to house many types of undead, such as zombies and ghosts. Hunters say they are real, some other won't believe it, but meh, no proof."_

The ill researcher needed their help, depended on them for his life. So they could not draw back.

Cid once again supported him on. Even though undead could be brushed off as mere enemies for the hunters of Ivalice, for Luso, it wouldn't be as simple. The first step into the mines had the boy feel the nauseous taste of vomit at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it obediently. _Nothing to fear_, he repeated to himself. _You're strong. Your Clan's with you._

As with the Galerria Deep, the mines were damp, cold and rather dark, its predominant soil being a tone of grey instead of the less eerie brown of the Galerria. This time, however, there were no creatures inside. The Tramdine Fens had much more water and was warmer than this almost toxic ambient, so of course the monsters preferred the outside.

Well, the _living _monsters.

Luso had swore not to fret, but what are promises if not mere words? The sight of the ghosts and their long-drawn moans alone felt like a cannon shot to his rather unprepared psyche. Never had they before looked so physical and mischievous. So many, many of them. He felt like a little kid all over again.

He was unprepared, yet they attacked. The clan reacted instantly, drawing blades, bow, harp, rod. Luso felt his living pace quickened by a haste spell, but moving was difficult. Utterly overwhelmed by the mere presence of the undead, a step felt like a mile, the light katanas he held, as if made from the heaviest ore. On truth he only really snapped into reality when a strangled groan filled his ears and a beam of a light so intense it almost blinded his eyes came into vision few centimeters away.

_"Luso! Put yourself together! It is not only our lives that we hold responsible over!" Yujin, long made a paladin, shouted towards him._

_There were far too many. They couldn't do it without him. His mind clicked painfully. Were he to remain still, he would be hindering everyone._

_No. Nobody would die because of him. It would be unbearable._

Luso fought and did not know how he did. Everything was a blur. To guide himself he used the odd ability of sensing light and darkness he had somehow attained in Ivalice, striking dark, dodging and defending light. He attempted to forget the undead and focus on the battle, immersing himself into it.

Too many. It wasn't enough.

In a too hurried spin he wound up tripping, falling dangerously on the rocky soil below. It only added to the already existing aches, and the boy highly wished ninjutsu abilities did not require so much concentration. Katanas no longer had contact with his hands, and while he searched for it with the same hands, he only found rocks, dirt, blood.

Clawed hands both of deteriorating material and ghastly in nature racked at him, their sounds horrifying. They reeked of dead and despair. His conscious was giving out. Luso did not want to fight anymore. He wanted to shrink, stop listening and feeling and smelling, and die at once.

Something pulsated on his belt.

_"Do you not think you have proved yourself already?"_

He felt constricted against the ground by no physical force for a moment. He heard screams that belonged not to the living. A warm feeling of power, as well. When Luso opened his eyes, he understood far too well why.

Zeromus was laying condemnation over the multiple undead, throwing them away with gravity, raking them with large orange claws, crushing them with the hand of a crab. The Scion's deadly tail gave no pretty imagery when it sliced through the corpses that insisted on fighting.

Said gravity was also the one to throw Luso in the air, and he felt himself expecting the less pleasant of scenarios before Cid's strong arms caught the boy before he could fall.

"Did you summon it?" the revgaji questioned, astonished by the power of the allied creature that was basically doing their dirtier job for them. Luso shook his head weakly, feeling very nauseous. Zeromus did was _his_, in a way, but he had never called him.

What seemed to be before an extremely high amount of foes was reduced to nothing with the Scion's power. A pregnant silence loomed over them with the last deaths, as if daring them to ask, yet holding their startled selves from saying anything. Zeromus ignored the hume curiosity and hesitation, turning around and staring Luso down. When he spoke, his beak-like mouth seemed to move little.

_"I may be an ally whenever you summon my help, but be aware I am no slave. Prepare yourself."_

He allowed himself to be absorbed into the Choker clinging to Luso's belt, leaving Clan Gully with nothing to expect.

"I suppose we should head back to see if the man remains ill or if he has become sane, after we willed away those spirits." Ramsem suggested thoughtfully.

Cid did not let go of the boy even after he was able to walk, tending his odd poison with esuna along the way. Many undead were poisonous, being able to spread it through breath and touch alone. The other members of the clan had their own poisons already cured by Yujin's chivalry.

As he was carried to the safety of Fluorgis, dark thoughts swirled within Luso's mind. That had been a living nightmare, what they went through in the Nazan Mines. Would they have died if Zeromus had not chosen to intervene? Would they be unable to complete the quest, and leave the man fated to suicide from the insanity he'd fall in? Could have only some of the clan members died, and the others left to mourn over their loss? And if he himself died, how would his aunt fare in Saint Ivalice? Would others have shared the same fate in the wretched mines had they not killed the undead? It gave him a headache, thinking about it.

The man had gotten better, after all. Luso tried to brighten up with that knowledge. He didn't. His body felt too tired, felt like he was unable to do battle or running. Rather numb. Maybe he was sick.

It had been that chief undead soul the one to fell him with such illness he could not force himself to smile. Pessimism gripped him, unyielding, at all times, making him weak, ever sad. All of Clan Gully worried for him, and he felt he should be content, for the others cared, but he could not. All that struck Luso in it was guilt for making them worry.

It was a deep, hopeless depression.

In battle he was struck down and hit much more easily. The pessimism in him led the boy to believe he was becoming no more than a nuisance to the clan. They had to keep him in a bed for days so he would stop thinking that for every battle they engaged in, and so he would recover more quickly.

Luso hated it. Being alone allowed the worrying thoughts to plague him constantly, bringing him over to despair, and not rarely he would find himself tearing up or crying from the thoughts alone. _What if his friends died in battle? What if he could have been there to prevent it? What if the illness he felt passed onto anyone else? What if the undead from the Nazan Mines wanted revenge and proceeded to kill other Ivaliceans? What if they are searching for him everywhere back in his time, or had they thought him long dead already? What if they blamed his death on Mewt? What if he died and Ewen received no more encouragements to break free of Khamja's grip?_ It was truly sickening.

So when Cid arrived to check upon him one day, Luso took his blonde head and kissed him to the best of his ability and did not give a care in the world about the possible consequences. He wasn't going to let him go. He wouldn't, couldn't be alone again.

Much to his happiness, the revgaji didn't pull away. His lips, though hesitating, were tender against his own, but he did not linger before pulling away.

And still Luso pleaded. "Just... don't go. Please. I need someone to talk to, a distraction, anything. These thoughts are driving me insane."

"Thoughts?" Cid asked softly, tender as his kiss had been.

"Thoughts of death, hopelessness, worry. They just don't go away. I was never like this, so why the fuck...?" _Like this, yes. Just not as deeply._

Words heeded, he was brought back into the battlefield, and there would he remain until he was cured, allowed to smile and laugh once again. The undead soul was whisked away, though it left behind another reason for the boy to hate ghosts.

Back in their tracks, Luso kept to filling his journal, avoiding the haunted mines as much as he could and growing in courage after he better learnt of Cid's returned feelings.

The same feelings he hoped Hurdy would have as well. But would that not be dreaming too high? The moogle was talented and kind, precious and helpful, and though Luso wanted to give him the love – _and the lust, _the boy recognized with a blush – he deserved, could it even be possible that they accepted a romantic affair of four ends? Hardly so. But he could well be underestimating these Ivaliceans. Vaan had helped him broaden his views even further once, giving him more hope on the matter.

_"Have you... ever felt you loved someone more than you should?" Luso launched the small stone onto the water's surface, watching as it bounced off before finally diving._

_"Yes," Vaan replied, a sad smile rising on his lips. "... My brother. One does not love a sibling like I loved him."_

_At first, Luso blinked. That sure was a big thing to swallow._

_"You don't... love him anymore?" the younger asked slowly, pupils dilated in surprise._

_"He's dead."_

_Luso swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry-"_

_"I'm through with it, don't worry." Vaan smiled a little more brightly, arm wrapping around the brunette's shoulder. Neither made a sound or move as the sky pirate tried throwing a stone onto the water, and it bounced too briefly before disappearing under the surface. One that lived in a desert knows less how to play with water._

_"Did he... reject you?" Luso spoke calmly, a little uncomfortable for treading on intimate territory._

_Not faltering, Vaan closed his eyes and shook his head negatively, his grey-blue eyes seeming much more vivid when he opened them again. "I think he loved me, not only as brother but as lover, much before I did. I had not even known incest was supposed to be a sin, or a bad thing whoever they call it, but when I did, I couldn't care. We loved each other too much, and I simply hated that there would be some guilt in his expression every time he kissed deeply, touched, found himself liking it too much... it... one shouldn't feel guilt for loving another. Love is supposed to be a good thing." a blush spread on sun-kissed cheeks as he chuckled, "I think I'm talking too much here..."_

_"I don't mind it. Really. It's just... I-I didn't expect you to get so intimate. With me of all people." _

_Crossing his arms behind his head, the blonde stood up. "I see the way you look at me, Luso."_

_It was the youth's turn to blush. "H-huh? What do you mean-" _

_The kiss had been intense in a way neither could describe. Not fiery with lust, nor quite drowning in passion, but that feeling, that intensity... it was related to the peculiar kind of energy they felt in no one else. _

_It was far too strange and overwhelming and he was unsure if he wanted it or if he should move away. His mind didn't. His body wanted to press closer yet it wasn't from primal mating instinct; the sexual need was far less strong than this odd- this odd- _thing.

_They parted and not for breath as it was not what they were accostumed to. The sensation had been comforting, pleasant, but too exquisite._

_Both gazed into each other's eyes. _

_"Luso. Your light. Never lose it, okay?"_

Well... the... conversation had given him hope about his impossible crushes. Adelle had headbutted in without consent, Cid was willing, and now, if he had any luck, Hurdy could be his, too. Vaan was not truly in his reach, and though they did love each other in an affectionate way, it was a kind of relationship he could not really count in.

One day after the conversation about Reks, which he learned to be the name of the sky pirate's brother, he asked Vaan if he moved on after Reks died, to which he showed him a long collar with a pretty red feather as its main adornment.

_"High up in the skies, there was a purvama, called Lemurés, in which a warrior race known as aegyl lived. They had in their backs wings of all kinds of colors. From the most curious of aegyls, I took this feather. He meant a lot to me, so I'm going to find him again one day." Vaan muttered dreamily._

_Luso supposed he understood. It was another legend of Ivalice that he would savor._

There was also Ewen, the Nightfall who the boy was attempting to get out of Khamja. Even if Ewen showed no true interest in it. Of course the ninja looked alluring and desirable enough sometimes, but that was it. No further. But his views as a professional assassin were truly interesting.

And for that, one night Luso dared question him something he would usually avoid, lest his fear is bared for people to see. Both very awake, skin caressed with cold, Luso voiced: "What think you of ghosts?"

Taking his time to think, the ninja replied most indifferently, "They are merely the physical manifestation of a deceased's spirit, most corrupted by darkness, unthinkingly roaming and lusting for blood. If not corrupted they merely roam the world, purposeless, and still unthinking. If they become too physical, they are named undead."

"There are no undead where I come from."

"May be from too little influence of light and dark. You said there was no magic either, did you not? Their souls are probably much weaker. Grew weak, gave birth to weak, died weak of soul. Lack of magick and true fighting spirit tends to do that."

He felt a little cowardly, then. In this Ivalice they had true reason to fear ghosts, as those could really do physical damage, but back in his home, they were mere spectres, almost simple air. Though as images of blood and corrupted faces flashed in his mind, Luso reassured himself his deep fear was genuine and reasonable, and were not his sickly reactions to it and haunting paranoia enough of a problem already?

_Fear the living, not the dead._

_Fear the physical, not the imaginary._

_It is all in your head._

But fuck, it _isn't._

And were not all undead corrupted? _Normally a strong feeling such as hate will allow a ghost to go physical, or rise the dead, maybe, as well, _A woman, before a zombie, called Frimelda, told him. She did not seem corrupt – at least in general, since she many times sported unkind mannerisms that led him to doubt some of it – so maybe there were good ghosts and undead around.

Of course Luso's hope dropped when he learnt she hadn't really died, only turned zombie by a special chemical. Oh great. What could he trust about undead now?

He saw his hope faultering and renewing itself. Then faultering again, and so it continued.

_On a very early morning Hurdy had asked if the sea-eyed boy would like to stroll with him in the Tramdine Fens to collect wood for a flute he wished to obtain. Luso felt unable to deny it. They left a note to warn the clan of their whereabouts and left well-equipped._

_If they spoke in the way, they spoke of art. Hurdy pointed at certain trees and told him about what kind of flute each could birth, saying the type of wood he procured was a little rare and delicate, so he supposed it was not the job for their bangaa. Luso found the calm morning more than inspiring, feeling the urge to write, but not having brought his journal, he simply kept walking._

_Such peace was almost dream-like. Night creatures prepared to sleep while day dwellers woke from their slumber, groggy and not yet willing to fight. _

_But a day is not a day without a little conflict._

_"Luso!" Hurdy shoted suddenly in his high voice, "Behind you!"_

_The boy promply rolled forward as to evade whatever was trying to attack him from behind, solely wishing it wouldn't be a magick user. Just as he tried to lift himself from the ground to fight, a melodious Requiem echoed through the air, freezing him in place._

_Admittedly, if adrenaline wasn't being pumped in his blood at the moment, Luso would probably have melted with the beauty of the moogle's voice as he sang._

_The brunette turned around in time to see a barely physical ghost disappear with little protest, damaged badly by light._

_... Hurdy's song did _that_?_

_"Kupooo," the blonde whined slightly, panting to catch his breath. "You good, kupo?"_

_Luso did not answer, instead smiling and taking him in an embrace upon his lap. "You sing so beautifully." the boy said breathlessly before he could stop himself._

_"T-thank you kupo," Hurdy said in response to the compliment, "This one was not difficult to beat, it was probably wanting to vanish into the afterlife already, kupopo." he then wiggled, shifting considerably while trying to get off the hume's arms, "The hug is too strong, Luso- Mmff-"_

_Loosening the clutch of his arms, Luso made to apologetically explain, "I'm used to hugging people bigger than me, I guess." Hurdy seemed to become still and silent. The boy felt his furred face heat up against his chest. "Hey, why are you-"_

_... Oh._

_"Ah. I'm sorry." Luso murmured, cheeks tinted a deep red as Hurdy fidgeted with slight discomfort. He was surely feeling the boy's desire poking him from below. Luso lifted the small body and placed him on the ground, quickly standing up even as his legs shook a little. "We should now find the wood, shouldn't we?"_

_He made sure that he was far behind the moogle, scolding himself for having paid little attention to what could have happened back there. Maybe if he did the awkward scene wouldn't have played itself out. What if the bard was afraid of him now?_

_Luso drew out his katana, knowing his arousal to be heated still. He tempered the blade with the spell of Hoarfrost, feeling the chilly air emanate off its surface. It was the fastest way to deal with it, was it not? He approached the side of the katana to his clothed heat, shivering already from the thought of it, before he felt a tug at the blade's handle, another at his belt._

_The spell faded._

_"I can help you, kupo."_

_Never again did he question of how Hurdy felt about him. _

Luso was afraid the three would not take it lightly. Cid had, on truth, grimaced at the prospect at first, but came to not be much bothered by it with time. The boy was glowing with happiness with the two males accepting it, even though they were rather uneasy, but knew they must have made a right decision when Luso showed to be as bright as ever since.

And Adelle, who wasn't one to share anything, was surprisingly indifferent about "sharing" him.

The entirety of Clan Gully was special, but those three became specially close to the sea-eyed boy. Gully was his family, Jylland his devotion, Ivalice, his heart.

Khamja thus was their most immediate enemy. Organization and Clan represented a threat to each other. The one to ruin the other first would win.

They were dealing with skilled assassins, and this reality would only truly be shown to all but Cid, who already knew of it, in a night of minucious planning and isolation. Khamja was stealthy in its every move.

Even though some of the clan members were missing, the chance to obliterate them was not wasted. Illua, ever the ambitious leader, had her lips open in a delighted grin as she watched them pace through the entrance of Delgantua Ruins.

The uneasy feeling had crept up Luso's spine as soon as they set foot on the ruins' edge. The Condemner's Choker was almost shivering in his belt, as if expecting.

"We should turn back." Jaoreen, the assassin, hissed softly. One of two male vieras the clan had ever seen, he could almost smell danger as they knew it, but upon the warning Adelle merely scoffed.

"We can face anything, and some bad omen over some old ruins won't topple it for us."

Luso was going to interject, but was almost forcibly stopped by a loud, short, exploding sound.

Many shots flew across the air at once. _He _had not sensed it; his soul did. With an instinctive hand flip and an ethereal feel of power, a flash of blue occurred, and the boy didn't even know how it came to happen, but the bullets never reached them.

Shock overcame both clan and organization. Luso glanced at his hands, then up.

"Those Khamja rats..." Cid growled under his breath, seeing the gunners and snipers that composed a prestigious division of assassins in the secret group.

Illua's expression contorted angrily at the odd powers.

Another shot.

_But I didn't..._

His body did it again, as if refusing to allow the death of his friends. Now, the blue magick could be seen better before it faded. A shield...?

Gravity.

_Zeromus, what did you do?_

An amused chuckle. _I did nothing. It is your doing, Luso._

"Has the Grimoire granted you this, boy?" Illua asked, tone like sugar mingled with raw dirt.

"How would I know?" he rasped back.

She grinned, biting back frustration. "We shall see once I have my hands on it."

Night was a studio for the clouds to play with, their position able to cast darkness over the land or allow the moon to shine on all below. They were at the moment eight, and how many were by Illua's side there? They had to run.

"I'm ready to Cover." Yujin warned, whilst the moogle Ganoslal lit his sword with fire, a light to pierce the darkness.

"There are fifteen of them that I can sense," Fayd informed after he broke off from a illusionist concentration.

And so they ran. Luso embraced the ethereal, powerful feel that burned in his fingertips and chest and with it felt an intimacy with the force of gravity. With it he threw opponents away, hurled stray rocks and sticks at them. It would feel delightfully entertaining if their lives weren't held by a thin strap as they fled towards Moorabella.

Everything he heard was unnerving, from the sound of swords and bullets cutting the air to screams.

"Yujin- stop Covering me! You have already a lost eye and I wouldn't want you to lose the other!"

He felt tiny arms gripping his neck, it almost making him stumble with the startle.

"Too quick. Had to fly, kupo..." Hurdy murmured against his ear, breathing ragged.

Snow had been their best sighting yet. It meant they were near the city's outer walls, and as such, near safety. Most of the gun-wielding assassins had already tired much, giving up their strife after the snowy grounds cooled their feet, but Illua wouldn't just give up.

_Damn it._

"Wait, Luso- what what- what are you doing- kupoooooooo!" Hurdy was easily thrown over one of the rocky walls, light as he was. With clenched teeth, Luso turned around in time to parry a sword strike of Khamja's blue-haired leader.

"You're just a _boy_," she snarled, sword not even drawing back as it forced one of his katanas off his hand, and Luso bit his lip harshly to suppress a gasp as he felt the very tip of his fingers cut off.

"Jealous of my ambidextruousity?" he countered, swinging the other katana in her direction, only to have the woman jump back. She glared, madly striking in attempts to disarm him of his other blade. He tried electrifying her through the spell of Skyfury, but seeing this Illua let go of the blade at the same moment, and so the electric jolt came right back at him. Literally shocked, he staggered, and it was enough to have his katana thrown off and away from his grasp.

"Swords make of a peasant a squire, but what of one without them?" she pushed him to the snow-covered ground with all strength of an arm.

Luso was attempting to fill himself with gravity's power again, but her blade was too quick, its swiftness cutting the air ahead of his face and-

It just _stopped._

What? He felt a pressure at his right hand. He had hold of something. Swinging it, the brunette found out it was a large, slightly transparent sword, and Illua was forced to step back.

"This Grimoire, it-" she hissed out.

"Would you stop blaming the Grimoire for everything?" he growled, swinging the sword's strangely light weight towards the woman. She jumped back again.

"Why else-"

"Luso!" an arrow burrowed itself almost ridiculously close to Illua's feet. Jaoreen's eyes narrowed.

The woman's glare became murderous. "You will no longer have any hand to wield a blade next time we meet."

And much to his relief, she disappeared. But so did the mighty, bluish transparent blade he held.

That entire event had been the first time Luso came to know he could wield gravity not unlike Zeromus. Sadly it was not often he could harmonize enough with it to wield it, nor get the hang of it as he wished. Of course they questioned how he managed that, but since he could not explain, they presumed it was the doing of the Scion of Cancer and said nothing.

On truth the one other time he found himself able to use it was once again a time of dire need, of imminent death.

Clan Gully was well warned of the danger dealing with those heavily misted crystals could proportionate, but it was not of curiosity to kill them, and they had already learned it after shushing the light of the Brightmoon Tor tower for the first time. Different dimensions, teleportation, they'd dealt with it all.

Or so they thought. Contact with the third crystal, in the cursed Delgantua Ruins of all locations, had sent them into blinding darkness. It was a void in which they could nor see nor feel anything physical around. They were left expecting, calling for names that would not answer. But it was brief-lived.

The first words that came to Luso's mind once the darkness was shrugged away and allowed them to see something were _wall, daggers, death, skull._

Weak torches lit the features of a _thing_ best left unseen. It was a rocky wall of moving limbs, some looking like raw bones, sharp and multiple bug-like legs able to drag it back and forth. But of course they would not drag back. As it struggled forward, its deep redden eyes gazed soullessly forward, its "face" also a horrendous thing. Who would allow such a thing to wield those many daggers and swords?

The sounds it made topped over the scariness of it all, as if blood icing was put on a dated out cake.

Luso was downright tired of it. His legs tired of weakening with fright, skin tired of shivering, bladder tired of giving in, limbs tired of the startle, mind fatigued of the dread and heart of its clenching.

His friends were there, starting to fight the ominous wall. He wished to tag along, but his legs did not feel up to it just yet. He almost tripped over. Said wall was forcing them back, diminishing their space, behind them a dark pit whose end they couldn't discern. This dimension was as hateful and alike in appeareance to the ruins. Except the ruins had no botomless pits to be dealt with.

It wasn't late before the demonic wall forced upon them a magickal swipe which threw all over to the pit. Their screams became the fuel that allowed Luso to feel the ethereal power again, and embrace it with a calmness he did not know he had at the moment.

Feeling the living presences around him, Luso grasped at them with gravity, stopping their fall. He stopped his own as well, nullifying gravity on himself to leap towards the floor above, dragging the bodies with it. With gravity did he stop the wall's advance and allowed his friends to destroy it.

_"Luso, your eyes... they were glowing blue. As in, really glowing. Like there was blue mist emanating from them in a way."_

This gravity. Why did he even have this power?

_"It's because you are a Cancer in the Zodiac," Vaan had answered him when he had asked almost exasperatedly one day. "There is other reason, or reasons, but I don't know of them. Zodiark wouldn't tell me anything either."_

_"Zodiark...?"_

_Luso's heart almost shot up to his throat as the sky pirate suddenly shot a blast of darkness from his hand, it ripping off a chunk from a rock. When the platinum blonde looked back at him, his greyish blue eyes were darkened._

_"He is Ophiuchus and Darkness, so do I. He had taken a liking to me just as Zeromus took a liking to you. But again, I don't know as much beyond this..." _

Vaan had conjured that darkness (_as an element, not from my heart_, he had said) out of almost nowhere, yet Luso couldn't simply do the same with his special gravity. Practice, concentration, he would get used to it, or so he hoped.

Luso wrote on the Grimoire, just as it wrote down itself sometimes as well. Time passed slow. He still couldn't come back, didn't truly want to, but he kept on. Illua wanted his Grimoire but such a tome could not get into hands as wicked as hers, for the monsters of the Rift to be released over the land. One of them had to be killed and he wasn't ready to allow that one to be him. Not when she threatened _his _Ivalice.

Great, he was becoming possessive of a land. _More than just a land_, he corrected, but still.

In Zellea laid a Jagd that appeared to be an end of the world, running thick with mist and barren as a desert, but colder, less friendly. Dark. The lines that divided the dimensions themselves seemed thinner and easier to cut, so to open a Rift there would be almost as easy as summoning an Esper in common land. An Esper, not a Scion, as they so easily tended to mend both as one in terms.

Lezaford asked him many times if he was ready for this dangerous battle. No, no, maybe, no, maybe, yes. He trusted Clan Gully too much. They teleported using a red crystal that was secured within the basement of Lezaford's cottage and from there, walked until they almost felt time warp itself, mist flowing almost too thick as to make the vieras Salma and Jaoreen shudder furiously and even Luso noticed he himself was almost falling breathlessly to his knees from such high amounts of mist.

At least the rest seemed rather alright. The sea-eyed boy had become used to bringing his "three lovers" into risky combats, however, it was still difficult not to protect them all the time during those. He needed to remember they could take care of themselves, and Fayd and Yujin reminded him well of that by trusting each other enough in battles.

Illua wasn't really waiting. She was observing the entire place, as if feeling its potential and power. This time she was not guarded by her assassins of Khamja, but by a horde of behemoths that seemed more dazed and mind-controlled than obedient of their own accord. As if Luso would mind interrupting this.

"Hey Lu!" he waved two katanas in the air, wary as all behemoths and the woman turned to face the Clan. "I thought you were going to summon some friends so we all came along to party."

"I reckon you should attain a more serious posture, or else the behemoths may get their meal before the monsters of the Rift do so."

_Better than thinking about the saddest parts in all of this._

"I suppose the power hungry is never sated." Cid commented.

"Nor should those with filled stomachs complain about hunger."

The ensuing battle was not as much complicated. Behemoths were formidable foes, but even so they succumbed to the might of a clan who ought not to give up. Cid allowed Illua's death to be honorable, too, and she faded in darkness, an unusual parting for a living being. The behemoths did not degrade, instead slowly becoming purple mist.

Luso took the corrupt Grimoire left behind by the woman, its dark surface still. _The Grimoire will open the Rift,_ Illua had said. Was she really sure of it?...

_Crack._

Clan Gully heard an inhuman, deep roar shake the ground. A mystical pressure unimaginable cut a rift in the dimension, the corrupt Grimoire suddenly glowing throughly, floating, pages flowing forth.

From the Rift emerged a headless melty body, who promptly attempted to crush them under a hand of rock. They couldn't dodge. Salma had been expecting this, and so in a split second she called forth the Esper avatar of Phoenix, it engulfing them in rebirthing flames.

They were ready to fight again.

Their numbers and quick actions were the critical factors to lead them to any victory, but the Neukhia just refused to die. Misty, newer limbs made to slash at them, magick that they could not dodge weakening their every heartbeat.

Luso was almost forcing a sacrifice unto himself, unable to keep listening to the pained sounds and breaths, aware any of them could die at any given moment. But maybe if he died, all fears of the time when he was ill with an undead soul would become real, and who would be able to wield the Grimoire and close the Rift if not him?

"Luso, don't." Yujin told the boy as if reading his mind. Luso frowned as he looked him over, it almost crystal clear to him that the paladin had been Covering the others from attacks.

"Has Fayd not scolded you enough about excessive Covering?"

"I-I can't help myself. Mainly now, with all the risks we are running through..."

"Fayd's gonna kill you if we get out of this alive, you know, right?"

"That won't be necessary."

"Huh?"

Yujin started shining white, eyes closed.

'_I'm sorry.'_

It was like a shot of light going straight into the Neukhia's core. Two screams of pain then echoed through the air: the monster's, and Fayd's.

Yujin was nowhere to be seen, no more. It was heartwrenching and maddening at the same time. It filled Clan Gully with renewed strength. Fayd absorbed an overwhelming amount of mist, releasing it with an illusionist magick that sent the Neukhia staggering, almost distorting the fabric of dimensions in the Jagd.

Luso felt deep within the ethereal force. The Grimoire of the Rift junctioned itself magickally with the Judge Sword, the transparent blade that materialized its light into Luso's hand as soon as his soul finally felt harmonized with the power of gravity again.

It functioned like a key. As soon as he stabbed the sword through the creature and into the Rift, slaying it, the Rift shut itself tightly, leaving behind only remnants and mist.

The Jagd was still and barren as if nothing had even ocurred in it. Never once had a victory tasted so bitter to them, the good elements of it not yet enough to cancel out the bad ones. None of them moved if not to heal another, Hurdy's hoarse voice echoing in a curative chant through the empty space. And even so, they were almost succumbing to the wounds.

_"Fayd." Armored steps shushed low, pained voices and proceeded towards the silently crying archer, who looked up thoughtlessly. "The Judge of an Adjudged Clan lives not without his clan." No answer came as Fayd swallowed thickly, broken still by the loss of his lover. "If you are to die here, my fate is the same."_

_They watched in expectance as Clan Gully's judge threw aside his sword, entertwining his own gloved fingers ahead of his chest._

_"Fayd. You have been a great leader for all since I first met you. So were Cid and Luso, and each member devoted to Gully. As a Judge, it is my duty to protect your right to live. As a comrade, it is my desire to keep you alive."_

The Judge faded into a light that warmly settled itself inside the twelve members, healing them drastically. They found their limbs and strength restored, ready to walk.

It was difficult to decide, whether to smile or cry.

The risk of stray Rifts opening was eradicated for now, and Luso felt, so clearly, that _his_ Grimoire was ready to send him to St. Ivalice again. He found out that, deep down, he had never wanted this moment to come.

But what of his aunt? What of those who could be considered his friends in the school? Had the two years he spent on Jylland done its effect over there? He was afraid. So afraid.

_Why shouldn't I... stay... here?_

Tears cascaded down his eyes, and he could not stop them. He wished he could turn back from the decision, stay with them all. Go with Vaan to search for the aegyl, study the other lands and species.

Luso couldn't.

The time of the good-bye was psychologically murdering him. Fayd needed comfort after Yujin's death, the clan needed strength after the loss of its Judge. And Luso needed this Ivalice, needed them all, it all. He was going to leave this place that he loved so much and come back to a world in which he did not feel as lively in, did not feel as happy, as _belonging_.

He glanced over at Cid, Adelle, Hurdy. His eyes could not even properly see them, so filled with tears they were. The embraces, kisses, touches, he would have none of it once returning. There would be only humes. No battles to be fought.

It would be like dying.

Vaan patted his shoulders, holding onto them. "Come visit us again someday, Luso. We'll receive you back with open arms."

_I am too tired of good-byes. Reks killed, when Balthier disappeared for a year, then Llyud- please, Luso. Don't let this be our last meeting._

He looked at them all, trying to smile. "I shall."

When the vortex of time swallowed him and his memories of the time in Jylland came back with rushes and jolts, Luso felt like curling up and dying there, but knew that it was still something he could not do.

Mewt, the librarian, was there when he arrived. He seemed not surprised, merely fixing his glasses as Luso composed himself from his emotional wreck and asked, "Which year are we in?"

The older chuckled, answering, "It has not passed an hour since you first disappeared from here."

Dumbstruck, the boy stuttered out, "B-but it's been two years- I went to another world, Mewt, you just have no idea-"

"Oh, but I do." he smiled warmly. "I believe you did, and after all, I do see you've grown a little..."

From fourteen, in Jylland Luso had grown to become sixteen. His body did seem to tell so, even if he was not believed in. Mewt was the one to fully believe everything Luso spurted out, providing him support about the situation.

_"There are three people I want you to meet. They will believe you as much as I."_

With it did Luso come to know Marche Radiuju, Ritz Malheur and Doned Radiuju, friends of Mewt Randell and, according to them, dreamers of Ivalice. Marche was a young man of twenty years when he met him. He said that, at fourteen years of age, he also had explored Ivalice, but this one was entirely fabricated from dreams and not from reality, all because of the Gran Grimoire.

_Fourteen. Gran Grimoire. _That was six years ago. According to the current timeline, Luso had eight years then.

A memory flickered into his mind. _So Zeromus knew when the Gran Grimoire was used._

The four of them told Luso of what they had lived in the dream, of how real it was, of how alike it was to the Ivalice Luso had known. History and Final Fantasy had much inspired the kids, it seemed.

Marche and Luso became friends quickly. With much of their tales to tell, they wound up finding a twist to the Dream Ivalice, not known before.

It was Montblanc.

Luso was almost startled that, as soon as he mentioned the moogle, Marche had taken his shoulders, shaken them almost dizzyingly, eyes shining with a bright glint of hope, questioning the black mage's wellfare. Luso said he was alright and happy, it appeared; roaming the world in search of treasure.

_"He remembered you, Marche."_

They bordered and crossed the line of embarrassment often, after that day. Luso learned that Marche had fallen for Montblanc much harder than he'd fallen for Hurdy himself. That the blonde boy and the chocolate-colored moogle had formed a bond of friendship and romance that even had Marche doubt if he ever wanted to abandon that dream. Now that he kne Montblanc wasn't just a dream, it felt so much more comforting, even if they could not reach one another.

Luso could not understand how Marche was able to stand all this time without Ivalice and without his lover. _He's got more friends, more family. That must be it._

For days, Luso would wake up unnecessarily early, groping around for his sword, only to find none. The lack of monsters and adventure made the energy in his body fade away at those times, and even if he attempted to sleep again, he couldn't. So he contented himself with something else, be it strolling outside, writing or reading the journal he wrote while in Jylland.

He missed everything so much.

The pubs, the different species and speeches, Cid's amusing types of expressions, Fayd's and Yujin's occasional couple bickering, the quests, Hurdy's voice, the locations, the free soul within Vaan's eyes, the magicks... everyone's smiles.

Marche, Mewt, Ritz, Doned, they were not enough. Time healed their missing of Ivalice, and maybe it would heal Luso, but he was not this patient, could not stand as much. So within months he used the Grimeire's power, and traveled back in time again.


	3. Souls of Lions (pt1)

**Disclaimer: **I can't own a storyline that is as complex and grand as Final Fantasy Tactics'. I'm not half good enough for that. But I do have plenty of headcanons for it.

**Notes: **Head hurts.This took painfully long and was a tortuous work to do. I apologize profusely for taking so long, if anyone is still interested in this. Tactics' storyline is very difficult to deal with. I wanted to have the entire Tactics part in a single chapter, but this morning I found a canon information that wrecked my whole ending for the Tactics part, and I'll have to rewrite it. I am currently too distressed to do so efficiently and quickly, so have the first part for now. I'm sorry.

It is also important to note that Tactics' storyline is very different from Tactics Advance 2's.

**!Warnings:** The usual ones expected from the Tactics storyline. It's a War, after all. Subtle mention of rape, an itty bit of incest, demonic possessions, corrupt Church...

Loneliness. Loneliness. That is what the land provoked in his feelings.

After all none seemed too friendly, too satisfied, too trusting to even near him and give him clues about what was going on. From distant conversations he heard of things his brain did not recall- Fovoham, Lesalia, Queen Louveria, Glabados Church, Marquis Messam Elmdore, Zeltennia, Gallionne, Thunder God Cid... well, that Cid couldn't be _his _Cid, of that he was sure. It all led to the same question.

Where _was_ he?

Luso had treaded through all of his memories, and no place in Jylland was like this. He saw creatures he'd never seen before. He saw humes who glanced at him with the corners of their eyes as if he was some very weird being. Only humes. Where were the moogles, bangaas, seeq, vieras, grias? These Ivaliceans wore different, less colorful clothing, and the buildings and their styles were very distinct as well. Thick accents flowed out of people's lips alongside far too formal words, even for those who seemed of the lowest castes. Castle towns, churches- there were none in the era he remembered of. Was he on another area? Another timeline maybe?

To survive these confusing days he hunted animals of many kinds, selling off their hides and meat and horns. With the gil (at least the currency had not changed too much) he got from this tactic, he had enough to eat properly and sleep at inns. In these days no one felt too hyped to converse about supposedly obvious matters with the oddly-clothed boy.

He was saved from the streak of loneliness, ironically, by an event that would have originally killed him. In a scorching desert, searching for rarer monsters, Luso came to meet with creatures that were rather rare and much feared in Jylland: behemoths. These ones walked in a pack and gladly preferred the walking over four legs instead of two.

And the entire pack was pretty inclined on turning him into their meal. So he ran for his life.

The behemoths came to corner him against a tall wall of the canyon, but Luso was not about to lose his hope just yet. Panting, he turned to confront the approaching beasts, and with the slightest of grins, he drawled, "If it's dinner you are after... I'll feed you a length of iron!" In return he got a mighty, windy roar, but that was not enough to disencourage him. "Have it your way then."

To read a beast's movements wasn't so difficult; he jumped a high height onto the creature's back before he could be crushed against the rock by its horned head. Leaping onto the ground again, he made to run towards where he'd come from, barely evading a swishing purple tail as he did so. But behemoths were quick. One blocked his path all too soon.

"Let's see how you swallow this!" he yelled almost feistily, leaping high onto the air and bringing his sword down onto the beast's head.

And was he surprised when the blade cracked, almost breaking apart.

The behemoth threw him off, hume back colliding hard against the rock wall of the canyon. His mind blanched for a moment as his rear fell onto the ground, and there he sad dazedly until he noticed the large creature's jaw open and reach for him, and instinctively Luso covered his head with an arm-

_Zoom._ Sharp teeth and long tongue never got to him. The brunette glanced over to see who'd thrown the dagger that distracted the behemoth, and found there standing a blonde young man with arm in throwing stance, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Luso stood a little shakily and ran towards the man, thanking him hastily and telling him to run. That is, until he felt a gloved hand yank his arm and he almost tripped with that alone.

"No, you must be tired from running. We are able to handle them."

"You and who else?" Luso asked in slight panic, knowing the behemoths hadn't given up. Right after the questions, he saw two men, also young, bare their lance and rod to the feral beings. Right beside the supposed leader, another blonde young man wielding a gun and a woman with a knightsword also prepared to fight. Luso swallowed heavily. "Are you sure?"

The ensuing battle ensured Luso that he had underestimated the five warriors. They knew to keep a somewhat safe distance from the behemoths that weren't their target; the man that saved him had a thin sword that dealt quick slashes which tore the purple skin of their legs, the lancer's weapon possessed a heavy head for devastation, the woman's sword thick and big for good attack and defense. The mage sent fire spells strenghtened by sunlight scorching down on the creatures's spines, the gunner shooting cannon blows not unlike those of a bangaa cannoneer straight onto horned heads. Enraged, the behemoths dealt plenty of painful blows as well, farming worry inside Luso who could hardly do anything (he felt so ridiculously _hot_, a roasting mess under the sun); he was only kept from rushing to help because they did such an incredible teamwork. If one fell or was strongly hit, the mage would promptly cure, another would keep the behemoths from attacking the fallen one. It reminded him of the clan he used to be part of, and he would notice the ache in his heart if his veins weren't aflame and his eyes weren't burning.

The behemoths were taken out after a while, either dead or fainted or disabled due to leg damages. Luso thanked the five profusely (_going from to such hostile eras, alone, that is how he almost got killed twice if not for the help of clans_), getting to know the name of his saviour: Ramza Beoulve.

_"You are not as everyone else is. I said my House's name, and yet you react not to it."_

_"You know what, Ramza? I don't even know where or when I am."_

Ramza was a kind young man, light blond hair cut short and a small ahoge protuding out of it that reminded him of Marche, except Marche's was much longer. The ponytailed gunner was called Mustadio Bunansa, the female, Agrias Oaks, and the other two men, Ganelon the dragoon and Gauwyn the mage. The last two looked pretty much like brothers. If only, they seemed to resemble a clan.

The five allowed him to travel with them, and he felt delightfully secure to finally have some people to trust in this land. Their intriguing and poetic way of speaking, present even more often than in the Ivalice he had known, was going to take some more time getting used to.

They were heading north, as confirmed by Ramza, towards a province called Fovoham and to the stronghold of its duke, the castle of Riovanes. He said that was where they were told to head towards, if they wanted to save the only sister of House Beoulve. Most questions about the locations were being settled along the way, but one wondering still needed to be answered.

_"What year are we in?"_

As expected, the man shot him a confused look, but replied nonetheless. "I believe we are around two-thousand Valendian."

_Two. Fucking. Thousand._

Of course all this time had been enough to kill off all of his friends and acquaintances, even Salma and Jaoreen, who were vieras and as such lived longer than them. And what happened to the world during over a thousand years? Were the other species killed off? What he knew was that this current time period held intense political tension.

_A civil war has commenced, hasn't it._

Oddly weird was what he felt from Ramza- it was the very same energy that he'd felt from Vaan, from Marche. What could this energy be? Not a way to be sure.

Even with a determination that comforted Luso, Ramza seemed to often space out in thoughts his own, as if briefly forgetting the present. Surely the blonde must have gone through much before he happened to find the game hunter.

"Aren't you feeling okay?" the brunette asked him once, when the Beoulve was thinking deeply again.

"I do, it's just that... there is so much to question... so much to think... Mayhaps there is no way out of this war. I keep wondering what of my brothers, of my sister, of us, of Ivalice..." A heavy sigh. "I wonder if Delita is faring as well as I..." he thought aloud.

Luso came to know much through the five companions. A war that lasted for Fifty Years had marred the land not long ago, and though it was stopped by a treaty of peace between Ordallia and Ivalice (now a kingdom, and not an entire world, it seemed), Ivalice felt it equal to a loss.

There was an enormous rift between commoners, nobles and church clerigs. It seemed they had developed much distrust, in some cases even disgust, towards each other. Luso frowned at this. The Ivalice he knew wasn't so socially unstable. Al-Cid Margrace was a noble of Rozarria, and still he chilled out with others as equals, even if a little more flirty. He'd even ruffle Vaan's and Penelo's hairs. Vaan also told of a thirteen year-old boy who had become the Emperor of Archadia at that time, and he spoke of him as if they were good friends. There was also the princess of Dalmasca traveling with him, apparently not bothered to team up with pirates, lowborns and a man devoid of the grace he once had.

"Are you sure it is still Ivalice you come from? For street rats to befriend royalty like this... I cannot believe it." Ramza shook his head.

"The nobles think very highly of themselves here. It's been like that for quite a long time, so Luso, you can only be from the legendary age of techknology many years past. For everything you say..." Mustadio shrugged.

"Tietra and Delita, for being commoners in akademies reserved for the aristocracy, tended to suffer mockery and harassment from the highborn students." Luso well noticed the tinge of sadness that tainted Ramza's reddish golden eyes as he said it. "And yet they acted as if naught of displeasing had occurred, hid their pain. Even from each other at times. I was foolish, not a too observer one when I should have comforted them."

"Do they fare well now?" the sea-eyed boy asked out of sincere worry. The silence that befell the group afterwards told him the answer would not be what he wanted to hear.

"Tietra was murdered, thrown aside as if she had no value. Even before the war commenced. Her brother, Delita... among the waves of war he lives, but his goals, I do not know."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As he had done twice in his life, Luso was learning the setting of the timeline he found himself in. Now there were no more high techknologies such as airships or robot-like machinery. Mustadio's gun must be one of the only ones functioning in Ivalice now, whereas before there were cannoneers, fusiliers, snipers, flintlocks, all commonplace. The Church of Glabados is the major commanding religion, and Luso had to frown at how much power it had over the people. They weren't this much religious nor in the past and nor in the future.

On the way to Fovoham they met a group of men with expressions marred with fatigue. Desertors of war, they were. They attacked Ramza with the hopeful prospect of being free of war's responsibilities once they killed a wanted heretic. The desertors died quickly.

According to Ramza, as Luso asked of it, heretic is one to execute a crime against either Church or god, and he'd really done neither, as he and his group had done no more than kill a Lucavi demon. Luso wondered what a Lucavi was.

As they ended the life of the last desertor, a tiny troupe arrived with a man riding a chocobo at its front. His hairstyle was intriguing, brown hair shaved at the sides and tied into a short, flowy ponytail.

_"I never though an heretic would lend us his help."_

_"Orran?"_

Orran showed to be a merciful young man, not interested in turning Ramza over to the church. Ramza insisted they needed help of one called Cidolfus Orlandeau, the powerful Thunder God as he was known. They needed the legendary swordsman's aid to stop the plot of Glabados' High Priest. Luso was understanding little of it.

This Ivalice felt so odd. The high-seated ones held so much more power than anyone else. It felt almost depressing to pace through Riovanes, with so many displeased by the war, so many frowns. The Mist in its air felt less lively than a thousand and three hundred years before, as well.

They were almost at the castle's doors, when a loud male scream voicing "RAPHA!" echoed, and a young tanned woman ran towards their group.

"Please protect me," she whispered.

A man much too alike her in appeareance, just few meters away, seemed slightly broken at heart as he eyed her, before quickly recomposing himself. Said man's allies rushed towards the woman, and Ramza, Mustadio, Agrias and the twins were quick to defend and counterattack. Luso only broke out of his brief daze when there were already two swords travessed through a knight and Mustadio was hastily kicking off a boot engulfed in flames. The Riovanean peasants at the scene were running in fear.

Not much time later, the tanned man found his small group helplessly dead. Entire face glaring, he spoke, "You know you need to go inside the castle for your sister... But now, if you do not bring her as well," he pointed towards the woman alike him, "Your precious sister will nonetheless have to face death."

"Give us time." Ramza growled.

"There is not so much of it." the man smeared away some of the dry blood on his skin. "Think wisely about the time you wish to use."

One more worry hung over their shoulders after the Riovanes guardian left, they scurried to prepare themselves. Rapha, the woman they rescued, quickly apologized for the burden she caused, telling Ramza of how her and her brother Marach, that man they had seen, were taken in when orphans and homeless by Duke Barrington of Riovanes. And so they wound up as servants because of that favor, but what Marach did not know was that who caused the death of their parents by burning their village was Barrington himself. The Duke seeked to obtain the special magickal skills of the family Galthena, the Nether and Sky Mantra, and by taking in the young siblings, he obtained them. Puppet-servants-to-be.

_That day, you were so young, so young, brother. He cut your memory apart, deformed it and your body, made you forget. And none but I noticed the awkward pace of your legs, the blood that once dripped to the floor as you stood. You did not think of your own after that day, Marach. Not even traumatized. You were like a blank slate. He brainwashed you, but at least not I, no matter how much he hurt me, no matter how much he tried to break us apart, and so I shall use it to bring justice to our cause._

Riovanes Castle was well-guarded when they stepped closer and closer to the magnificent building. Luso had never truly seen a castle, but no town in Jylland was as highly defended as this. To take Goug as example, they didn't even have a stable guard until Zipp decided to take matters into the moogles' hands, and ten of them was enough defense. He smiled at the thought of them, but there were no more moogles in Ivalice, and so the corners of his lips were neutralized once again.

Marach stood at the gate, serious and not as patient. "First do hand us the Scriptures of Germonique, and then Rapha. You may see your sister well and alive after that."

"Do not!" Rapha hissed at Ramza. "He will await you do to just that, and then kill your sister!"

Giving a small nod, the Beoulve began to unsheath his sword. Marach's eyes narrowed.

"If you will insist..." he needn't give a command for the troops guarding the castle to amass their forces towards Ramza's group (_clan, _it should be called a _clan,_ Luso thought) which was again quick to react.

In the past, throughout Ivalice, clans could choose the protection of a Judge, if only to be able to be kept alive even when knocked out, for a long time. Not here. Taking too much time to revive meant certain death. So Luso was more than grateful when, after he felt a sharp pain course through his neck with the slash of a cold blade, endless unconsciousness did not take him. Gauwyn had been quick to cast a reviving spell just as Agrias was quick to shut down the knight attacker with her own blade.

It was this caution that allowed a group as small as they to kill so many. Luso felt rather sickened for having to murder so many of a more intelligent (_if they were more intelligent, wars such as these wouldn't even occur_) species, but it was such a serious case of life and death he said nothing and just slashed on. _How many of them will travel the world as ghosts? Do they really think they will go to this place called heaven, to these men they call Ajora and Faram?_

The battle was paused briefly at the loud sound of screams coming from _inside_ the castle.

"What's killing them?", "Why are they screaming?", "What's happening?"

With the agility he'd sharpened while kid and ninja, Luso leapt and clung to the castle's window, forcing equilibrium unto himself as he peeked inside.

His stomach curled.

An oversized ram was cruelly smashing soldiers against floor and wall, successfully breaking their bones and skulls, some getting slashed open violently, other having their limbs ripped apart. Agonized screams were the icing to the horror. The boy thought he had seen enough to barely vomit, letting go of the window and falling back to the stone ground.

"What have you seen?" a knight of Riovanes asked him, wrist holed by a bullet, hand unable to hold onto any sword.

"Monster," Luso breathed out. The screams were becoming less and harder to be heard, and it compelled the few remaining guards of the castle and Ramza's group to storm inside the building.

_"Nuh-uh."_

Ramza had been the only one to pass through the opened doors when it shut abruptly and very strongly, with almost breaking force. They tried opening it again, but it would not budge; pushes, kicks, slams, they did nothing to it. A shot from Mustadio's gun bounced off it.

"It must have been a terribly powerful magickal sealing," Gauwyn spoke in a preoccupied tone.

"We cannot allow Ramza to struggle inside against those monsters!"

_"You are pitiful, Wiegraf," Ramza almost spat. "Going so far to avenge Miluda."_

_"Revenge is a thing of the past. As if this power would be wasted with something so... unworthy, as vengeance. I want to hear screams."_

Outside they heard the clash of swords, quick and deadly. They tensed up immediately.

"We are of the Riovanes guard! Please allow us in!" shouted the two remaining soldiers of the castle. They were not heeded.

"Ramza!" shouted the members of his group. Instant, intense worry overcame Luso when the sound of swords ceased, and he thought of the worst. Had the Beoulve been already stricken down? Feeling a surge of energy he had long not felt, Luso stepped back, ordering the others to move away from the door. Expressions scrunched with doubt, they obeyed, and the next second the sea-eyed boy sent a heightened punch towards the sealed passage.

Gravity slammed it open forcefully, barely breaking it apart.

None asked how, though they wished it. The situation did not call for questions, but for actions. They saw with a rapid glance that Ramza was still alive, climbing up the stairs with a wounded swordsman pulling at his leg, trying to impede him. The Riovanes guards scurried towards the many bodies of their companions splayed across the floor, trying to search for any alive they could save, while the group of "hunted heretics" ran towards the stairs in Ramza's aid.

_"Would you let go of me?!"_

_"I know who you are after! Do not make a fool of me!"_

The dragging and the dragged arrived at the next floor at the same time, Ramza struggling not to fall. He glanced about, once again finding only corpses, and willed forward still, keen on finding his sister.

Behind them were the others, Agrias shouting towards Gauwyn so they could keep on as he was worriedly looking for some sign of life in the unmoving bodies, Mustadio taking the time to finish reloading his gun, Ganelon catching up to Ramza, and Luso trying not to focus on how _ridiculously creepy _the castle was, _what if he got stuck in this place with these corpses at night_ _where would his sanity go._

Ramza got inside what could be called a meeting room, seeing once again more corpses- and no trace of his sister. But there was something that surprised him; amongst the bodies of knights of the castle, there was a different one- a Knight Templar.

Wiegraf, too, was surprised. Heartwrenchingly so. His hands freed Ramza, trembling legs standing to walk over a brunette Templar who donned green, and lay, as the others, unresponsive in the floor. Wiegraf dropped to his knees, lip quivering slightly. "I-Isilud?..."

_That's Folmarv's son,_ Ramza thought quietly as Gauwyn shot a cure spell upon his group's leader, Ganelon searching frantically for the enemy and pointing his lance at Wiegraf as he was the only one alive he could find. The blonde man did not tear his gaze away from the young knight, eyes scanning the youthful face marred by rivulets of blood, unable to see any rising or descending of his covered chest.

"Is he still aliv-" Gauwyn began, but his twin slammed a hand over his mouth.

Wiegraf shook, shook violently, his mouth opening to let out an inhuman roar as his back arched towards the sky. His skin darkened in color, hair growing and whitening, a new pair of arms unhealthily growing their way out of his body. His eyes blackened and two thick horns sprouted from his head, muscles expanding in size considerably, popping the arm and leg armor typical of a Templar and sending its pieces flying away at dangerously high speeds. The horrid transformation into Lucavi.

The monster slowly stood, hooves clattering against the floor. His dark eyes gazed over the ones ahead of him. "I am Velius." he worded out, shaking his head in apparent disappointment. "Humes are too shaded by emotions. They could be such lethal weapons themselves, yet happiness, sadness, any of these feelings... these untameable feelings... it keeps their potential at bay."

"And do you not have these feelings?" Luso spouted, adrenaline rendering him unable to calculate just how dangerous the situation was.

Velius opened a sharp-teethed smile. "Sadness, helplessness, fear of death... we have none of it. Wiegraf was a too heartfelt one, just when I was trusting him so well. Bonds of lust and friendship also make a hume weaker. They just do not realize it."

It was the moment Mustadio shot him on the very middle of his chest, and the battle started.

Velius had the exact same fiery presence felt when Belias was near, except Belias' aura was much less wicked than this. And much more powerful.

The Lucavi demon was rendered useless rather quickly with the disabling of his short legs; the previous mass murdering and Wiegraf's own end surely must have had a certain wreck on his body. The many knights he killed had swords on them, after all. And Ramza's seemed much more skilled when it came to slaying demons.

With death came a burst of bright red lights, blinding them momentarily before being swallowed whole inside the Zodiac Stone of Aries. Their muscles ached for some rest, hearts still beating in a frenzy.

"We have two stones here." Ramza quickly pointed out, applying healing chants on his allies as he ordered, "Pick them up before anyone else shows up."

Agrias fiddled with a blue stone she took from the side of a dead Isilud, commenting, "It has Pisces engraved on it."

"This one is Aries." Ganelon picked up the redden rock from the middle of a burnt carpet.

_Alma is not here..._ Ramza sighed heavily, eyes drooping upon again laying over Isilud. "Comrades, we need to find Rapha now. Hopefully she and her brother have stopped arguing."

_This castle is all tattered on the inside. I wonder what they're gonna do to repair the armies, the furniture... _Luso pondered. It was funny, how those ridiculous thoughts came to him whenever he was awfully tired.

_"You stay here, in this castle! I don't want you winding up killed!"_

_"I won't! We shan't be slaves, no more!"_

_"And betray Barrington as we do?!"_

_"You don't remember! Stop trying to argue, you don't remember, but I do!"_

The duke shook in fear as the siblings' voices rose; even in the high roof of his castle he wasn't safe. It just made the hand holding onto the gun tingle more.

_"What is there to remember? Barrington told me everything-"_

_"He didn't!"_

_Crash._

_"A-Aaahh! Aaarrhh..."_

Fist throbbing, Rapha clutched the sword as she walked up the roof, eyeing the duke with intense rage. "Killing you will solve so much."

"It will also distangle many knots that keep Riovanes together and well." he spat back.

"Don't you say anything other than lies? As if you were the only hope of these people." she pointed the short sword at him, shivers running through her body.

Barrington only grinned. "Your body remembers it, does it not?"

Rapha wished she could say that was the true reason she hesitated. On reality, her body shook with anger, not fear, and were the _fucker _not holding a _gun_, she would have already slashed and stabbed that grotesque frame of his. For what he did to her and her brother.

"The new feelings, the strange pain? The lingering hurt?"

_... So it was all true...?_

"Rapha!" Marach called, head throbbing still from the collision against the wall, leaping higher onto the roof. Barrington grimaced at the intrusion; No, no, he shouldn't allow his life to be ruined by these siblings.

So he shot.

The boy did not wait a single heartbeat before lunging forward.

"Marach!" Rapha exclaimed in utter shock as his body fell limply right by her feet, a hole with dripping blood carved into his torso.

"Such a good brother." Barrington groaned.

And at the same time, there were two arrivals: Ramza's and Marquis Elmdore's. The Marquis didn't wait for anything to happen, his fingers snapping.

One of the two women by his side took Riovanes' duke by the neck and threw him carelessly out of the roof with a single arm. Where he landed mattered little.

"Hand over the stones if you are willing to cooperate with us." Elmdore spoke calmly.

"We do not happen to be willing to cooperate." Ramza growled, "None of you need this much power."

Elmdore's lips bent down. "I hope your blood is not as foul as your mind."

Luso wasn't even allowed time to think properly since he got inside the accursed castle. He wished he could, because there were so many elements and abnormalities he needed to piece together.

Such as the inhume strength of the Marquis' bodyguards.

He wondered if they would have (since the battle with Velius) died, were there any less members on their team. Their hearts beat so quick it seemed they were on the verge of having strokes, but it was almost needed to dodge and fight back the strong lunges and strikes from the demon-eyed women. Elmdore was no defenseless feather himself.

Yet the trio called retreat before any could end up killed.

"We still have your precious sister, heretic," the silver-haired man breathed, "Make your decisions well."

"Folmarv must have taken her already." Mustadio glared at the point in which Elmdore had just disappeared. "We are playing the chasing cougar-and-rat game, except they are trickster demons, not rats."

"Worry not, Ramza. We still have the stones and the Scriptures that they need." Gauwyn smiled, or tried to.

Rapha sat down by her brother's side, eyes watering while her fingers traced the veins of his neck, feeling not a single pulse or warmth. The same fingers hovered over his lips and below his nostrils, feeling no breaths. Touching a hand to his cheek, she buried her face on his chest, hiccuping silently.

_My Lucavi kin has much destroyed, and so here I make up for the irreversible... dirty doing. Evil happenings. Demoniac deterioration. Everything of bad that Queklain decided as I could do nothing against him._

_Marach Galthena, hear me. I know you can. I can undo if only this injustice, as my freedom is enough to do so. Zalera may not appreciate it so much as death is his to command, as is your Zodiac, but thy love and sacrifice make your ressurrection worth the tresspassing._

_Also... I owe Ramza. He freed me by killing my "evil twin", so this is countering favors._

"Rapha! The stone! Do not allow-"

_Oh! The poison of life._

The first warmth.

"the stone to-"

_With love,_

The first breath.

"talk with-"

_your true Cú-_

The first stir.

"him!"

_chu-_

Rapha's eyes began to widen.

_lainn._

Marach's heart jolted alive, the sun-kissed boy's eyes snapping open as he gasped in need of air, almost convulsing with the force of it and the pain, the searing pain. And when he choked due to his position Rapha did not hesitate in the least to grasp him in her arms and join their mouths, forcing oxygen into his system.

Tired and confused to the brim, the others didn't even know what to do anymore.

She had barely allowed him to release the air when she took his mouth again, forcing her brother onto her lap. He made no protests, though when his lips were released, he sobbed out, "I am sorry...", unsure of the reason why his eyes were blurred by tears.

"Don't be." Rapha soothed, caressing his head.

Their total Zodiac Stones were now Pisces, Taurus, Aries and Scorpio. Though it was a third of the twelve they knew, it still did not feel like enough.

Even though Ivalice's overall climate was of tension, it was alleviated sometimes inside their own group. It was comforting to see the Galthena siblings friendly making up for past mistakes, besides being powerful additions.

Ramza wasn't as worried anymore, the reality of having Zodiac stones and Germonique's Scriptures on his possession bringing a wave of calm to their turmoiled situation. As long as he had these, Alma was completely safe.

Much to Luso's happiness, the heavy atmosphere was not always weighting upon them, and he felt more than glad to be able to write down the diverse differences and happenings of this Ivalice. The lack of other species that matched humes' in intelligence made his heart ache so, but the fact that he could frolick around and about with a legendary grimoire, pages unscratched by sword, undamaged by rain and intact even with use, without having to give a single worry about others craving it, was really a happy thing.

And the more he knew, the curiouser he felt.

Once a lightning storm cried over the usually dry Ivalicean lands, and Ramza's group (_No no no no, I'm sincerely tired of writing down 'Ramza's group' on this Grimoire every time; I will call us Clan Galiony in homage the province he came from, and it'll stay like this. I never wrote down something like 'Cid's group' or 'team' or whatever when I was in Jylland!_) was left to curse at the merciless rain while in search of somewhere safe on the uninhabited terrain. The Beoulve was many feet ahead of the others, trying to look for someplace better and pointing toward the rightful directions as they went. Nothing uncommon; until it happened.

A bolt hit the blonde straight on his head.

"Ramza!" A cold rush descended Luso's spine, fear overtaking every party member until they heard a soft 'What?'

... The Beoulve was unfazed. He stood there as if lightning had never stricken. But how...?

Ramza approached the stuttering youths with a small nervous sigh. "Well, it happened once before. I believe I may be thunderproof... heh..."

Mustadio took his shoulders and shook him violently. "You sure you're alright? No brain damage, roasted toes or anything?" he asked in panic.

"It tickled a little, but I'm alright."

"You electric magnet..." the machinist heaved a sigh of relief, slapping his back. "Beoulves never cease to amaze me, it seems..."

That event had been weird enough – Ramza _was_ wearing metal which was an excellent conductor for electricity, after all – so Luso found himself obliged to ask, "What is your Zodiac Sign?"

"Capricorn. Why so?"

Adrammelech. Lightning. It seemed to make sense now, if only a little. Maybe if Ramza was like him, and-

... No, maybe no. Because, where were the Scions of Darkness, after all? All Luso had heard of in this Ivalice were the Lucavi, whose name, element and appeareance was alike that of the Scions, as he had witnessed with Velius; but it was not the same.

Then something he swore he had forever lost in his memory kicked in. A shield made of gravity, which had protected them from Khamja. _Zeromus, what did you do? _-That distinctive voice chuckling. _I did nothing. It is your doing, Luso._

For all this time he never knew what this could point to. Could that mean the Scions had no true saying on-

He was forcefully broken from his trance by a punch he had felt as much as the grass scratching at his face. All the sea-eyed boy heard while shaking off the dizziness was Mustadio scolding Agrias on how she _could at least try to differentiate friend and foe before using strength _and _we won't ask for your aid anymore if there's a risk of this happening again _and Agrias not responding because sincerely none of them knew how to argue with Mustadio and win.

Ramza's plan was reaching Zeltennia. There he could meet up with Delita and receive some answers he sought. Delita was a very interesting individual, or so it seemed whenever the Beoulve spoke of him. He was the kind Luso would gladly drain information from to write down in his Grimoire, if only things would fix themselves. They never do, though.

And Delita, Luso found through uncalled-for means, was much more important to Ramza than what he thought he was.

But he didn't mind it, nor could bring himself to mind.

Bervenia, the free city, was supposed to give them a well-deserved break, but resting proved a distant dream when a woman by the name of Meliadoul Tengille appeared with guards of her own to confront Ramza about the incident on Riovanes.

_"I am here to avenge my brother! There is no other that would put an end to him if not you."_

_"Isilud's sister... We have no fault in this. He was already dead when me and my troupe found him! We could do naught to heal him. Reviving did not work. Please believe us."_

_"Would you say that was Wiegraf's work, then?"_

_"No. He arrived at our time, and mourned his death. Wiegraf could not have been responsible. Your father had been there, too. Could have saved him, but instead he-"_

The ensuing battle was ended soon, Ganelon and Luso having had previous experience with fighting atop roofs. Meliadoul's concentration had been messed by the emotion she felt, and so she chose surrender lest she end up like her allies. There were too many questions left unanswered to face death now.

Still at Bervenia, where they could not stay so long because of the ruckus they had caused, Ramza asked Luso if the younger boy could go to Gollund to check up on a quest about a caravan that needed escorting. They would meet back on the mining town once he was finished, and once the 'clan' had returned from Zeltennia.

Luso accepted it, trusting himself on the matter- though he had wanted to see Delita...

It was almost evening, and he had already been traveling alone. Luso was distractedly pacing through a more unused passage, still wary of being recognized as a heretic if he risked around people too much; and then he saw a small monastery-like building. In a time and place like this, it almost begged travelers to run off and away, but curiosity attracted Luso as if it was gravity, and so he approached it carefully and nudged the doors slightly open.

So, it was no wonder why they tended to say curiosity could kill.

There was a priest sitting on the floor, head bowed low towards a circle of light. He spoke in a hushed tone, with a heavy Valendian accent (or so the boy thought; he only heard this accent through Valendians), making the wording almost inintelligible. But creepy as fuck.

From the wide circle of light emanated a dark mist, smelling of ashes and blood. The mist had a ghastly, if not demoniac shape, that almost made the hunter's legs buckle among their shivers. The mist's shaping was becoming more physical, and _fuck_, it was emitting _sounds._ Choking, growling sounds. Luso had to make a ridiculously strong effort for his body not to give in right then, biting his lip to keep the teeth from clattering. He had to get out of there, run away like the building had seemed to warn him to do and simply not-

... get... caught.

It was laughable really, how his wobbly legs caused him to trip _forward _with a plus of causing the doors to slam loudly against the opposite walls. He visibly winced at both the pain and the accusing yell of "What are you doing here?!"

Luso had seen something he shouldn't have, that much he knew. And revolted though his entire body might be, its fear and instinct made him stand up and scurry away like a scared chicken.

"Knight!" the lower priest shouted towards a sword-wielding brunette that had appeared upon the calling, who turned towards the commanding voice almost indifferently. "Chase that heretic down and slay him!"

So he did. Luso cursed under his breath as he felt the young knight give chase too unconveniently skillfully, even as he shot himself into the woods.

Neither said a thing. Only the crack of dried leaves and sticks below echoed along with erratic breaths. Luso was not one to get tired easily, but maybe two years on Ivalice hadn't been enough to have him outlast a knight such as this man, and he felt death was getting closer. The boy concentrated on a strong water sphere from his mind, and he glanced back to quickly shoot it, lips curling to see it would hit straight on his fa-

The man simply slashed through it. _What?! This guy is not fucking norm-_

Shit.

Dirt and dried leaves welcomed his skin as he fell against them rather ungracefully, rolling few meters on the ground before stopping in a panting mess.

An armoured hand grasped at Luso's arm, lifting him painfully from the ground and as the panic of possible death rushed through his veins again he clutched at his sword and stabbed the man with it. Hearing a surprised groan of pain, the next thing the sea-eyed boy felt was a hand closing in tightly on his neck, and as he tried to breathe afterwards he choked, it only worsening things. Luso had already been lacking in oxygen from the run, and now, unconciousness seemed to be looming over him...

Except it never came. he felt his neck released all too soon, legs giving out for another clumsy fall. His sword had been thrown away somewhere. Why hadn't death come?

"I do not mean to kill you."

Only then did Luso notice that the knight was almost bended over, sitting and panting close to him. He was clutching at his side, apparently where the boy's sword had damaged.

"That's... nice... why, though?" Luso tilted his head towards him, taking in the young man's appeareance hazily.

"I see the Church... with no right to condemn an innocent man... because of a small mistake. It is saddening to imagine a future... in which the Church's true side is unknown... so witnesses are best left alive, even if you may not have understood what you saw." Phrases interrupted by deep inhales and exhales, Luso characterized in the other features of shoulder-length brown hair, eyes of a dark green and almost invisible scars in the few skin that could be seen of the young man.

As his mind acquired further consciousness, he realized sharply; it fit Ramza's description of his childhood friend Delita far too well.

He needed ask it. "What is your name?"

"It is none of your concern." Blood's scent coated the air.

Luso felt it. The weird energy he had only been able to feel on Vaan and Marche and Ramza, he was feeling it coming from the man. Who could not be anyone else.

"Delita?"

The young knight seems to flinch slightly, a small sound of pain leaving him as he let go of his wounded side to stand up. "How do you know it?"

"I'm a friend of Ramza's, and he knows you." was the simple answer. "He worries about you."

_As ever, he remains quick on trusting. _"You do are quite direct with your words. If he worries so, I suggest you tell him I fare well, but that conversation of ours should not hold on longer."

"You're going to just leave? Really? I was so hyped about meeting you! Why keep up this air of mystery? Why not come back with me so we can find Ramza and you can be both reunited?" Luso asked, almost bewildered. The older had his back to him, so he could not see Delita's expression, but his neutral voice betrayed naught of the emotion he may have been feeling.

"I have a long-term mission to accomplish, and it is not through an old friend's help that I pretend to achieve it." his cold, gauntleted hand seemed to do little to ail his still drooling wound. "I cannot join Ramza, not now. With Ivalice tainted with such irresponsible war, we can but walk different paths." the dark-eyed man made to pace down the way they had used to get where they were now.

"I'm Luso if you will it!" the boy shouted.

"Luso." A small interval of silence. "Do not speak much of what you have seen the priest do, will you? If there is much spreading of the word you might have to watch yourself, else your head may be decapitated to feed the Church's hunger for power and your blood spilled to quench their thirst for control."

And as the wounded male walks off, Luso feels he knows so little. _Guess I have a lot to learn yet. Siiiigh._ He tries to locate himself, wishing to get on his way before the sun hid completely and he got lost.

_Clak. Clak. Clak. Clak._

_"Ah, I see you come back with a bloodied blade! I am glad you were successful. Such a brave knight."_

That blood is my own, but 'tis not something you should know.

_"I will see to it that you receive your gil for the task. Can you wait but a moment?... Hey, I promise that, but I have no money on me!"_

I never said I wanted your money.

_"Do not dare cast a spell on me! Such an offense against a priest will have you punis- aa-"_

_Delita stood still as the man fell, soulless, to the floor. As the commoner lowered his arm, feeling soul power being absorbed inside him, he closed his eyes to contain the slight pink glow they had acquired._

Without witnesses, an event can be distorted, or maybe, had as if it never happened at all.

_They shan't chase Luso now. Less a weight upon Ramza's shoulders._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gollund was calm as it normally was when Luso arrived there before midday. The information on the quest was simple; they worried about sabotage of a caravan that would be transported to Dorter. He had done these kinds of protecting and escorting before, so there should be nothing to worry about.

Just...

Where the heck was the caravan.

The sky was dark with clouds and the slums were oddly quiet. The sea-eyed boy missed the presence of a second blade, left hand gripping the belt so it would not feel so empty whilst the right held a light sword. Where were the people? Suspicion was held thick in the air. So thick it could be slashed with-

_Thhnk!_

Talking about blades...

"He's not the one we're looking for," the thief warned, blade parried by Luso's own.

"But hey, is he not a wanted heretic? We could still fetch some gil in for that."

Trouble had found him amongst a brigade of bandits, maybe the ones he was to protect the caravan from- but now they wanted his head off, not whatever the caravan held. Luso took in a deep breath as he realized the thieves were many and he was alone to fend off for himself.

There was no way he could-

_Boom._

"Ack!"

All of them turned around to search for where the shot had come from, displeased to find among the streets a way-too-fashionable-looking man wielding a rifle.

"The thief!" one of the men shouted, gritting his teeth.

"I plan to steal nothing. It is the Cache of Glabados that I seek." the rifle-wielding man explained. "And you sold me short. I'm no thief. I'm a Sky Pirate."

_Sky Pirate. Sky Pirate._

"We can now turn in two heretics instead of one. Even if not a thief, it remains golden tidings for us!" the wounded bandit grinned.

"Oh, surely you will earn your metal prizes." the sky pirate spoke, aiming his rifle. "My shot is faster, or my name's not Balthier."

_Balthier. Sky Pirate Balthier._

Luso leapt to Balthier's side all too suddenly, heart racing, sword prepared. "Mind it if we team up?"

"I suppose not."

It was almost surprising for the both of them, how they had been underestimated. Death was not always pleasant to deliver- this case being one of the unpleasant ones. Balthier shot at them much too calmly, always in strategic areas, and the hunter was able to down them with heightened dodging ability and quick hits. The slums were quiet still as the bloodshed occurred, except for the noises of the battle and pained cries.

One of them had run away. Luso shrugged it off with a heated huff, glancing at the mediocre rag he used to clean his sword- it was so small and entirely red that he may as well thrash it. Only when the haze of battle was lifted from his mind that he sputtered out, "Y-you're Balthier?" There couldn't be another Sky Pirate called Balthier, could there?

"Yes, I said it was my name."

"V-Vaan told me about you!" Luso panted out, mind fuming.

"Vaan?" the sky pirate quirked an eyebrow. "I'm afraid he lives not in this time."

"And indeed he doesn't," the boy wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders, leading him out of the slums. "But I was in his timeline as well."

"I do not know where I start believing you," Balthier stated.

Luso was unsure as how to explain, but there was such a strong feeling of hopeful happiness as he stood near Balthier. Balthier of the time he held so dear.

"You are here too, aren't you? Why not believe me?"

The older man shook his head briefly; maybe it would do him good if he believed the boy, crazy or not. Vaan did say he had met an energetic boy of unmistakably bright sea-colored eyes, apparently come from the future, and by the end of that discussion Balthier commented playfully on how the blonde Dalmascan was such a magnet for trouble. He wasn't expecting to believe the boy did come from another timeline.

"I believe it was the Cache of Glabados that led me here. Which is why I search for it... Where are you planning to lead me to?"

"I have friends that'll not try to kill you and will protect you. We are all heretics under religious gazes for dealing with matters of the Church, so we are on even ground. What's the Cache of Glabados though?"

They kept up friendly conversation for a while. Balthier told him that the one treasure, not even truly known as 'Cache of Glabados' before, was a set of magickal stones of odd, non-measurable power, but still incredibly different to nethicite. Those, he said, had more of a feel of auracites.

And were not the Zodiac Stones auracites?

Balthier was shocked to know Ramza, Luso's friend in this era, held several of the said auracite. If that was the case, mayhaps he would come back to the Golden Era in no time. Still he was suspicious, thus not thanking the boy yet.

They were headed for Gollund, as Ramza had requested, but when they arrived there after almost a day, no clan could be seen around. Maybe they were still in Zeltennia? Luso went to inquire information from the pubmaster, lest Balthier get more suspicious about him.

"Ah, no, no clan's been around here today. But if ye want to know some thing, I can tell you about a battle that's being rumored both left and right, if you know what I mean. They say Fort Besselat is going to be stormed, a lotta soldiers of both Orders there, even the grand dukes Larg and Goltanna and the Beoulve and the Thunder God Cid..."

Beoulve and Thunder God Cid were key names, so Ramza has headed there, he's pretty sure of it. They could either go two safer, longer roads or go directly southeast along a dangerous pass through the mountain range. Balthier did not mind accepting to go the fastest way, and after a moment's rest and obtainment of more supplies, they were off to the lesser known road.

It was as they traversed through the rather rough path that the air started to reek of death and blood and decay, driving their caution sense to the edge as they doubted the silence. The wind which carried the sick smell was the same that brought faint agonized screams to their ears, and so they quickened their pace.

The screams had eventually ceased. They couldn't see where the reeking area was yet, stomachs curling while the heretics strove through the rocks with difficulty.

Ah, how they wished the howls and moans had not stopped.

It was not that terrible a scenario, but it was far from pretty, as at least thirty five bodies lay sprawled in a rather narrow passage between two mountaintops, covered in blood and poison. Knights of the Orders of Northern and Southern Sky, Luso barely recognized.

"What happened here...?" Balthier whispered incredulously, thinking back on his Ivalice that had just started its amends of peace.

"There's a Civil War going on between two military orders." Luso explained flatly while his horrified eyes ran through the fallen humes, disbelieving that they would walk to such high heights to do battle. It just made everything more difficult.

Was there no one to be saved?

A small groan and the lifting of a weak arm answered him.

"Balthier? Could you please go to Ramza for me? I want to save this guy." Luso almost pleaded, running towards the wounded man. "You'll know Ramza when you see him. You know how you always knew when Vaan was close? Like that." the boy wasn't sure if others could sense the odd energy, but he had to risk something.

The Sky Pirate procured to object as the man would probably die in minutes, but then he remembered of his risky attempt to save Fran in the Sky Fortress Bahamut, and how he had allowed himself and Vaan to try helping the aegyl, whom were not as much willing to help themselves, and merely asked,"He will be of neither Orders, right?"

"Right. He's got his own weird troupe along."

Nodding, Balthier left running east. Luso could not be so quick, the man he carried being too heavy for that. So he paced slowly, trying to chant healing magicks in the way.

After some convincing, the dying man told his story. Of how he had only become a summoner to help others through collecting phoenix feathers from his main summon and selling them as phoenix downs. Of how his wife had abandoned him with their child, of how the child died poisoned not two years later, of how spectacular he and his white mage friends were on saving lives.

"If you bear a Phoenix as summon," Luso began softly, heartbroken to see the man cry, "Can it not save you?"

With a sad smile, the summoner shook his head weakly. "The summoners of Phoenix have a pact in which they cannot... save themselves with it... else we would probably never die."

"Hey, you alright?" Luso asked as the man closed his eyes.

"Just a bit too... tired..."

It had been barely noticeable when his breathing and heartbeats stopped altogether. Trying though he might, Luso was unable to reawaken him, and so he sat him by a rock, as comfortably as he could manage, taking the limp hands and placing them on a cold lap. Silently mourning the brave man, the boy shot back towards Besselat with speed he did not know he had.

The mountaineous terrain was giving place to plains and short trees, which had Luso swear he was getting closer and closer.

Until now, no sign of troops, or of his friends. Not all trees were short, and several blocked his view of what could be well-ahead. But from afar he could see, between the tree trunks, a wide plain that seemed far below of where he was. Luso approached the cliffside, where it indeed was a long fall ere he to jump, glancing around the vast plain expanse; to his right side, still well-below and far, were many troops donning blue, heading towards-

_'Fort Besselat. Heh, thing was important back then, in the last war. Wa' just a boy when I heard of the marvelous deeds of defense done in there._

_Ah, but now... Now 'ts just another double-edged knife. And they also locked the wretched queen there._

_The place of heroes will turn into the place of demons...'_

Fort Besselat is astoundingly grand, well-hidden among cliffsides. It doesn't seem very practical, compared to other fort-like structures he has seen. Given his distance from it, he could not sight anyone in said building.

Maybe Ramza hasn't arrived. Maybe Balthier is safe, like he is, away from the fort and the troops. At far, he could see, on the other end of the plains, a mass of red soldiers, also seeming to head towards the fort. The clash will not be pretty to watch.

Luso heads towards the fortress, uneasy. There is nothing that can inform him of his friends' whereabouts, and if they are safe or not. What keeps him from panicking is that, since they aren't of any Order, they don't need to do war.

It's too quiet. Far too quiet.

That is when Luso hears it; a rumble echoing from afar, the soil starting to vibrate underneath his feet. He looks around instinctively, and in a moment, the rumble becomes a thunderous roar. Sounds like a... waterfall?...

Rushing to the cliffside again, careful not to trip over to his death, the brunette catches the unsettling sight of a mighty and large rush of water coming out of the lower part of the fort, rapidly spreading, faster than crashing waves.

What about everyone-? Swallowing his heart (he was pretty sure it had leapt up to his throat for a moment), Luso started racing towards the fortress, mind buzzing- _nobody was expecting that, what was going on, why would they open whatever let that damn water explode out_-

He wants to scream out his friends' names, but it would do nothing. Nothing beat the raging storm cacophony of the water flooding the plains so violently.

Near Besselat, the water seems to flow calmer. Luso has to stop, because his muscles are already burning with overexertion, throat dry, breathing ragged. A pair of war deserters run past his tired form, and it reminds him to check the plains' situation; relieved to find that most of the troops were in a safe, higher location and away from the flooded area. Whoever did that insane act at least stopped the incoming battle.

It is only a while before the water seems to cease flowing completely from the fort. Strength renewed, Luso retakes his walk towards Besselat, picking up speed, because he still worries.

On the Fort bridge, its highest point, which connected two cliffsides and bordered a large river on its side, there was nobody. Luso paced down a staircase, seeing different ways to go, nervous about which of them to take; it did was the Southern Sky stronghold, and soldiers and commanders could be here.

He goes further down the staircase, thinking of trying to call for anyone he knows, _agh I hope they are alright, if Balthier gets killed he won't be able to come back to his time, to everything he had, it'll be my fault-_

His arm is suddenly yanked to the side, and before he can draw his sword or shout, a gloved hand covers his mouth.

"Sshhh," a voice lowly reprimands, and Luso sharply glances upwards to see the offender, frown quickly turning into a look of surprise.

"Bhhffhirr!" the boy beams with joy, muffled by the hand. There is an almost unnoticeable smile on Balthier's face as he pushes Luso inside a large room, separated from the main fort.

It's downright delightful to see that clan Galiony is safe.

The room seems to be a storage for grains, with nobody but the titled "heretics" inside. On truth, there do are others; an older, bearded and hooded man, talking pacificly with Ramza; Orran, the man that did not turn them over to the Church when he had the chance, and a serious-looking blonde woman with a blue cape.

_"Are you sure of your decision, Orlandeau?" Ramza inquires the grown swordsman._

_"Of course. Not only will it be an honour to lend my aid to your cause, how there is no other way for me, betrayed and believed dead as I am."_

Where to start? What to ask first? Mustadio seems the first to notice him, few moments before Luso hugs him tightly, nevermind that physical contact was not as common in past ages as it was in his time.

They were glad to see Luso alive as well, and inquired him about Balthier, to which he replied to be a trustworthy man, also searching for the Stones, but not to align with the Lucavi. Balthier was currently outside, being a sentinel for the group.

The older, hooded man was revealed to be Cidolfus Orlandeau, the legendary Thunder God. He was an important member of the Order of the Southern Sky, but given the current circumstances (believed to have been Goltanna's murderer and to be now dead), he will be Ramza's ally.

The serious ponytailed woman told them that both Southern and Northern Sky troops were retiring from the plains. Since their leaders, Goltanna and Larg, were now dead, Delita and Dycedarg would take their stead. She left without another word.

Orran turned towards Orlandeau, eyes firm. "Father, I shall return to Zeltennia and fulfill my duty in protecting princess Ovelia."

With a slow nod, the older man encouraged him. "Make me proud, Orran."

When the young man left, the grain storage acquired unusual silence. It was as if the atmosphere had been wearing a festive mask, and only now did the mask drop to reveal a common sentiment of fatigue and hopelessness.

Luso scanned the whole room in search of someone who did not seem partially broken, and when he did, a thought occurred to him. "Where are Ganelon and Gauwyn?"

This only seemed to make them more distraught, and Luso felt like biting his own tongue.

"Ganelon has gone to search for Gauwyn." Meliadoul replied curtly, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.

A clanking sound fills the empty air, its source being a painfully troubled Ramza purposefully allowing his body to fall into a sitting position. If none of them are on good spirits, then Ramza's eyes seem to show the most turmoil. "I should go find Ganelon and bring him back."

In two seconds, Mustadio and Agrias are by him, and Luso almost expects them to hug the Beoulve and soothe him when they kneel by his sides. The brunette swears that, among Ramza's whispers, he hears a guilty murmur of _'it was my fault'_.

There is something important he doesn't know, something that is not at all good news, and the sensation of dread that has barged into his heart an unhealthy amount of times in this timeline is there again.

The mood is so heavy.

Eventually, Ramza, alongside his trusted machinist and knight, left to search for their lost companion. Balthier got inside the grain storage with plenty of twigs and branches in case they stayed in until the sun set.

In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Rapha nudged her brother. "Hey. What about you demonstrate us the bellydancing from our tribe you tried to learn?"

"A-as you pointed out, I merely _tried _to learn it." Marach sputtered, looking at her in disbelief.

"We can both try to learn it fully now, can we not? Better than sulking on the spot." she stood up and took his hand, pulling him into a standing position. "We mustn't forget our true parents' teachings. One of them is that dancing is reinvigorating to the body and soul."

Marach does not protest, but nor does he move. How are they to dance without rhythm or music?

Luso vaguely remembers what bellydancing is, but he doesn't know how to set a music for it. But it would be worth a try; Hurdy would be so proud of him.

He started by knocking and slapping two different parts of a wooden crate, creating distinct sounds. It wasn't a music, but it was a rhythm, repetitive and simple. The Galthena siblings glanced at him, to which he responded with an encouraging nod.

Rhythm settled, it was easy to get used to. The siblings' first steps were slow and hesitant, unused to any crowd, but Luso kept the rhythm steady and they did not stop. As further encouragement, Cidolfus took a small pan filled with grains and shook it, offering more background noise.

Rapha and Marach were swift to come in synch with each other, the passion of the dance causing their eyes to close in confidence and their sways to become more violent. As the movements kept on, Balthier's clapping and Meliadoul's wall-knocking joined in their odd music, and they cherished the moment of peace and happiness that proportioned a break from the warring and doubting.

Night had already shooed most of the light from Ivalicean lands when Ramza came back, he and Agrias holding Ganelon by the arms while Mustadio paced in front of them with a precarious torch. The music fell silent with their arrival.

As Mustadio lit some candles on the walls with his torch, Ganelon furiously tore himself from the duo's grip, snarling, "Get the fuck away from me!"

Not a word was spoken while the lancer stormed towards a distant corner, eyes redden and expression angered. "I don't- I don't want to fight anymore. This madness is too much."

Luso wanted to speak, to ask what had happened, where was Gauwyn, can someone explain things- but he knew it was not a good idea at the time.

Cid was the first to dare say something, since everyone was sat and quiet. "Given there are plenty of grains here, we could maybe try to make some bread. I know how to."

Not much later, they were making enough bread for all of them, still very silent. Ganelon hadn't budged from his position and Cid was lending help every once in a while, though he didn't beat any grains.

They were silent as they ate, as well. Cidolfus approached the upset lancer on the corner, offering some of the bread, though Ganelon refused it. The older man insisted and insisted, until his patience faltered and he said, in a commanding tone, "Your brother would never want to see you like this."

Ganelon ceded, with much distaste and a quivering hand.

The night was quiet, tense. Luso felt he already knew what had happened, and tried not to dwell on it.

When morning arrives, they don't dwell much inside the grain storage room, parting as soon as they were ready. Ramza still seems rather distant, and the dark mood thus has not faded from the party. Ganelon's anger is toned down completely, and surprisingly, he does not separate from the group as it heads north- Cidolfus is at the back of their march along with him, reassuring and soothing the boy.

They manage to cross the entire province of Zeltennia before evening, and thankfully a more content mood had settled over the group by then. Mustadio absolutely despised seeing everyone so gloom, so to revert this he told them riddles and guessing games, which distracted everybody for a while. Mundane activities such as doing laundry and Cid's tales of the Fifty Years' War were what lifted the heavy atmosphere most effectively.

At Mount Germinas, almost at the border with the Limberry province, they were able to evade a group of heretic-chasing thieves through having half of the enemies struck by the Mantra of the Galthena siblings, and running away fast enough to leave the non-struck ones to care for the injured comrades.

"Where are we stopping for the night Ramza?" Agrias asked the Beoulve while the pre-evening sun descended in the sky.

"Wherever we are tired and in someplace safe enough. Past Lake Poescas, mayhaps."

"We could get the salt there for cooking, so I can finally prepare us a proper meal." Meliadoul suggested, "Nobody here cooks well, not even I, however I have at least some skill in that."

"One day I'll learn to cook tasty meals, so I can do both me and my father a favor." Mustadio proudly commented.

Lake Poescas is within Limberrian territory, somewhat near the province's castle town. It was a completely dried out lakebed, but was still a well-known location.

It was empty when they arrived, devoid of monsters and people alike. The salt covering the lakebed reflected the light still present in the air. A moment's rest was had, the clan appreciating the view of the golden twilight upon Limberry. Meliadoul cut a circle-shaped rag from an old robe and made it into a sack, approaching the lakebed to gather some of the salt.

As soon as she touched the white substance, however, a cracking ominous sound echoed from Poescas' other edge.

"Give us the Zodiac Stones you hold!" a chorus of inhuman voices demanded. "We shan't bear this undeath's burden no longer!"

In a moment, all were up and ready to combat the foes whose voices seemed to come from everywhere. Luso's eyes darted back and forth until they stopped on-

_It felt like a slap to the face-_

Four ghosts, not pearly white in color, not the monster-like formes he oft saw in Jylland; they were very human and dark purple, floating ominously and releasing a very hostile aura.

Luso swallowed dryly. _You're among your friends. You're safe. You're safe._

"We will give you no stone! They were hard earned and not to be lent to untrustworthy hands." Ramza told the undead, teeth in sight.

"If that is your choice..." the dead mystic growled, ghouls suddenly appearing at the lakebed's edges. "We will take them by force." The ghosts lunged towards them with unnaturally high speed.

Oh, no.  
_No._

A memory struck painfully inside him.

_"I bet those ghosts just like your body, Luso, if they want their hands all over you." she grinned that cat grin._

_"Adelle, would you please stop that." Cid scolded. "It's unhealthy for him. We've just fought those wretched things."_

_As if Luso wasn't shivering already._

_"I know it isn't healthy though."_

_The sea-eyed boy felt something misty enter his mouth, get caught up dangerously in his throat. He started coughing, at first normally, then more violently, but whatever was messing up his breathing wouldn't leave._

_He felt no comforting arms around him when he fainted into unconsciousness._

"Luso! Pull yourself together!"

He was convulsing. Hadn't noticed. And the ghosts were aiming for that easy prey. So much for a body made for survival...

The game hunter almost felt the spectres get inside him and wreck him up. Almost. Not before he saw the blinding light.

"We just wanted..."

Darkness at the edge of his eyes.

_We just wanted to be at peace._

...

.. It felt like he was with Clan Gully... all over again...

Half an hour had passed, without it feeling like it.

"Were you not practicing white magick, Ramza?" Mustadio asked, tone tinged serious.

"I am." the mercenary is well aware why he asks.

"Then how can you muster up and discharge so much lightning? Not even Sir Orlandeau can manage such." Agrias made a demonstrating gesture at the 'thunder god'.

"Trust me, I know as much as any of you." Ramza sighed, pressing the tip of the potion bottle against Luso's lips, beckoning him to drink more.

"You killed all of them in the blink of an eye. And..." Mustadio pinched at his temples, "Well, that's a good thing I guess, but it kinda worries me."

"No demon has possessed me, comrades. That much I am sure about." Ramza assured them.

Luso listened to their conversation with only half a mind.

_Those ghosts were willing to kill. But they wanted peace. For themselves, at least._

Limberry's Castle Town was lively, but not feisty, when they arrrived there. Women and children were commonplace, so were some men whose wives went to war and left their sons and daughters with them. But the castle itself... it was oddly quiet.

"The Marquis may be alone inside.. but that cannot be... after his capture, he would not allow his defenses to fall so low. Even if the Lucavi are on his side."

Still surpsisingly so, when they got inside, only Elmdore and his two bodyguards were there. Waiting, why wouldn't they?

"Ramza, this is reaching a peculiar point of ridiculous, this coeurl-rat game we play. Wiegraf was a novice in the subject of demons, but you do are aware of which high risks you run by toying with us so." the silver-haired noble hissed softly.

"Still you cannot fathom it that I am willing to take these risks for my sister? For Ivalice?" Ramza gestured at his loyal friends. Ganelon's expression was twisted almost unrecognizeable with anger.

"We beat you once," Rapha pumped her fists, "So we can do it again."

Elmdore seemed to frown at Marach's sight, aware the boy had been dead before, wondering how he stood here now. "That you brought down Queklain, Velius and Rofocale is no much reason so feel at such peace."

_We never heard of this Rofocale, nor killed three Lucavi... what does he talk of?_

They were interrupted as a burst of purple shadows exploded onto the marquis, making him groan with the pain, the burst having also expanded to damage his inhume bodyguards.

"Confident, huh?" Marach slid a tongue across his lips, delighted at the easy prey for his Nether Mantra. He was thankful Elmdore had killed Barrington, but it did not mean he wasn't going to fight with full force.

"Celia. Lettie." the silver-haired man whispered, and not a second later said bodyguards were attacking back.

Inhume strength was met with equally merciless swipes, shots and slashes. Of experience in battles to the death, they were full of.

_"I see the mage is no longer with you," Elmdore teased, swinging his sword; Ramza was quick enough to make it meet his shoulder pad, thus avoiding harmful damage._

_"He died honorably," the mercenary tried to deal out a hit of his own, teeth gritting. "unlike you accursed plotters."_

Tough as the curse-doers might be, there were more on the Beoulve's side, and they feared another shot from Mustadio or Balthier could end any of the three.

Elmdore laughed a bit, wiping the blood that slid down the corner of his mouth. "You insist too much. It is highly... unwise..."

They knew well where this was going when the marquis pulled out a dark stone from his garments, feeling it vibrate in anticipation. This time Ramza attempted to avoid the transformation, throwing a dagger at the man's rising hand, but the Zodiac Stone's power shielded him.

Purple light flashed and shone across the room, enveloping the silver-haired man whole. Unlike with Wiegraf, there was complete harmony in it; even as they easily saw how Elmdore's hands grew and became clawed and purple, how his hair disappeared, how wings sprouted rather bloodily from his increasingly hunching back.

The sight was quickly becoming more horrifying than Velius had been.

Luso cringed as the atmosphere grew dreadful. Elmdore's teeth became sharp and crooked, his eyes blackened whole, his legs bent at an odd angle, ripped clothes piling on the floor.

The bodyguards turned demons in the blink of an eye; differently from the marquis and the Lucavi, the women and the demons were one and the same.

As soon as the transformation was complete, the ambient's light dimmed, darkening as if night had befallen them.

"I am Zarilaa." It felt like terror had suddenly risen.

_Ooh. I sense... delicious fear. _The same wicked voice cackled.

Why couldn't this Lucavi be more _normal_? Velius was a rugged ram with many muscles and height to talk of, but this bony, skeletic horror seemed to arise from Luso's nightmares.

"Worry not yourselves... for death is my affinity." Zarelaa's thin and elonged arms rose high in the air, fingers tapping, curling and uncurling in a manner so creepy it should be unlawful.

The Game Hunter felt the skeletic being's dreary gaze upon him, barely knocking the breath from his lungs with that alone. _He aims for me. Why wouldn't he? _His legs felt the familiar shivers, unconsciously pressing themselves closer together, body tingling confusedly with whether to remain frozen or run off immediately.

Offering an ugly grin with undesirable teeth, the Lucavi was more than satisfied to see he would get his first kill without even truly trying.

"Luso! Run! NOW!" Ramza screamed atop his lungs, pleading, commanding- he did not want to lose another friend.


End file.
